


放火狂 | Pyromania

by Acai



Series: ||これは私のホームです|| [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 3rd gym, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Artist Bokuto Koutarou, Bad Cooking, Bipolar Disorder, College AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Multi, OT4, Polyamory, Road Trips, Slow Dancing, Social Anxiety, Soulmate Tattoos, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tattoo Artist Kuroo Tetsurou, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Writer Akaashi Keiji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acai/pseuds/Acai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akaashi regretted a lot of things. He regretted removing his soulmate tattoo, he regretted choosing an English major, and he regretted not ever going to the coffee shop downtown because he was too anxious to order. Most of all, he regretted telling himself he'd never fall in love with the three boys sitting across from him. </p><p>|| The one in which Akaashi hates the concept of soulmates and ends up with three, regardless. ||</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's the Point of Fate if You're Not Going to Listen?!

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr-- @Aobajosighs

** "What’s the Point In Fate If You’re Not Going to Listen?!" **

** “ 放火狂  |  Pyromania” **

* * *

 

> _"Your tattoo is only half complete and it completes itself the moment you find your soulmate, like if you had half a heart, you’d get a full heart on your skin."_
> 
> _"You remove your tattoo because you hate the idea of someone dictating who you can be with for the rest of your life and the person who’s removing it happens to be your soulmate and they’re torn between letting you know and just not bringing it up because you kind of went there because you didn’t want a soulmate and vice versa."  
>  _

_Please submit further prompts to Aobajosighs on Tumblr. Thank you!_

* * *

 

If the whole thing wasn’t stupid enough already, Akaashi quite possibly had the stupidest tattoo ever. A circle. Everyone else had a _tree_ or a _moon,_ or even half a heart, for Christ’s sake.

Akaashi had a circle. A single, thin circle on the inside of his arm. It was better than something complex and big, though, he guessed. The tattoos were stupid, the concept was stupid, the universe was stupid. The whole idea of a soulmate was stupid.

Some people found it dreamy, knowing that there was somebody out there who was literally _made_ for you. They made it romantic, not being allowed to truly ever fall in love. When you met your soulmate you’d know it with a single glance at your tattoo. Then people _told_ themselves that it was love that they were feeling, because it was their soulmate. It was all fake, it was all stupid, and above-all-else it was nothing that Akaashi ever wanted to be involved in. It _definitely_ wasn’t something that he was going to let remain on his arm.

He’d gone in to get it removed.

The tattoo parlor was loud. A group of boys lounged by the door, looking at the list of tattoos hanging on the wall. A building filled with people there to add another tattoo on to their collection. Akaashi was willing to bet good money that he was the only one there to get a tattoo removed.

“Are you ready to go?”

Akaashi’s head snapped up to meet the eyes of a messy-haired man leaning over the counter. He nodded, standing up and letting his eyes scan over a girl who was showing off her new tattoo to her friends, who all cooed and admired it like little pawns.

“Did you decide which one you want, then?” The man tipped his head to the side, letting his hair fall out of his eyes. “It seems like everyone on Earth’s wanted an infinity sign today…don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice tattoo, but it’s getting a little overused.”

“How do you know I’m not here for one of those? You could have just offended me,” Akaashi muttered, studying another one of the posters showing off the tattoos available. There was a variety of circles towards the middle. _Why_ anyone would want a circle tattoo, he wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, you don’t really scream ‘infinity sign tattoo’.” Akaashi was pretty sure his nametag read ‘Kuroo’, but it was so worn and old-looking that Akaashi could have been completely wrong. “So what _are_ you looking at for today?”

“I’m getting mine removed.”

Kuroo paused, raising an eyebrow as he gestured to a chair. Akaashi sat, pointedly glaring at the man. He didn’t comment, but it wasn’t hard to tell that he was surprised—or, at the very _least_ judging. Akaashi fought the urge to glare at him again.

“Okay,” Kuroo agreed, voice not betraying any of the surprise that lingered in his eyes. “Just point me to it.”

Akaashi rolled up his sleeve, trusting that Kuroo would be able to spot the tattoo without his guidance. When the other didn’t make any move other than staring at the circle, he frowned. “Can I not get it removed?”

Kuroo came back to life, eyes flitting up to meet Akaashi’s. “No, you can. Can’t imagine why you’d want to, though. You want you _soulmate_ tattoo removed?”

“Obviously,” Akaashi wondered if it was still policy that you weren’t supposed to chat up customers at work. “I wouldn’t have come in here to have it _removed_ if I wanted to keep it…It’s just stupid, that’s all. I don’t want a soulmate, and the tattoos are stupid. So if I could get it removed, that would be really great.”

He was being rude. Of course the other man was confused, it was hardly common for someone to want their soulmate tattoo removed. And Akaashi could have been more polite about the whole thing, of course.

Making an attempt to be more polite, Akaashi stopped scowling. Instead, he settled his eyes on the window, watching a group of birds fight over an abandoned sandwich. Kuroo didn’t comment again, getting to work putting tools together.

“Are you sure? I mean—it’s my job to ask, but, are you sure? I don’t know much about removing soulmate tattoos, but I’m pretty sure you can’t get it back.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Cold fingers touched Akaashi’s arm and he focused on the birds, on a student chasing after a piece of paper as it blew away, on the couple with matching birds on their hands as they laughed outside. He could practically feel the hesitance in Kuroo’s hands as he went to work. It hurt, when he did it. There wasn’t any small-talk when it happened, either. In movies and books, when character went in for a tattoo they always chatted with the artists.

Kuroo was silent as he worked, and Akaashi was glad. It made it easier to focus on other things.

And when the tattoo was gone and all that was left was a red patch of skin on his arm, there was reluctance left lingering in Kuroo’s eyes. Akaashi almost felt bad—which was strange, because he didn’t even know the man and it was _his_ tattoo and _his_ choice.

Still, he felt slightly guilty at having been the cause of that look. Akaashi rubbed the sore spot on his arm, trailing after Kuroo to the front desk once more to go and pay.

“Why don’t you want a soulmate?”

Akaashi stopped rummaging through his wallet for a nickel. “What?”

“Isn’t it…supposed to be a good thing?” Kuroo leaned against the counter again, less playfully than the first time. “Having someone that special for you?”

Akaashi shrugged, placing the nickel on top of the stack of dollars in a gesture of ‘I don’t care, take my money so I can go’. When Kuroo kept staring at him instead, Akaashi shrugged once more. “Because I don’t want a circle to decide who I love for me. I don’t want to _have_ to fall in love. And I don’t want to be forced into thinking I’m going to love someone for the rest of my life because… because we’re _destined_ or something. Have you never thought about that?”

“No.” Kuroo shrugged, his eyes playful again. “I’m perfectly content with the whole thing, actually.” He finally reached forward and took the money, counting through it and putting it in the cash register. Akaashi wasn’t so sure that he shouldn’t regret his choice. He didn’t—but maybe he should have.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Can I help you?” Akaashi stared at the boy staring at him from across the table. The boy jumped, as if he’d forgotten he was even staring in the first place. _His hair is ridiculous…_

“Oh! Yeah! Maybe you can, actually! Do you know the way to the 3A lecture hall?” His sentence was too flagrant, loud and excited.

He must have been an excitable person, though, because only someone that hyperactive would be able to be lost trying to find the 3A lecture hall when it was literally _around the corner._

“It’s around the corner to the left. It’s the second door on the right.” Akaashi looked back down at his phone. He could feel the other boy’s gaze burning into him. _If those directions were too complicated, I don’t know what he’s doing looking for 3A…_ “Just follow me.”

It was where his next class was, anyway. With any luck, the other boy would ditch him as soon as Akaashi showed him to the lecture hall he was looking for. Akaashi could find a seat towards the front where nobody would talk and he’d finish the book he needed to have done before English Literature tomorrow.

The boy didn’t leave. Instead, he took a seat right next to Akaashi, who had half a mind to just stand up and sit somewhere else. Nothing was stopping him. He’d done it before, and he wasn’t worried about hurting anyone’s feelings.

Or, he never had been before. People weren’t Akaashi’s thing. They were all annoying and blind, practically incapable of thinking for themselves. Akaashi couldn’t care less if he hurt someone’s feelings by moving to sit somewhere else. He’d never seen the other in his _life,_ and all he knew about him was that he was too hyper, couldn’t find his way out of a box and had silly hair. Still, Akaashi was reluctant to be rude to him. The same way that he’d felt guilty about being the reason those eyes had looked sad, he knew he’d feel guilty if he moved away and made these new eyes sad, too.

So he stayed. The silver-haired boy chattered to Akaashi (translation: to himself, in a way that made it seem as if he were conversing with Akaashi). His name was Bokuto, he had just started taking this class because he’d been moved up a level, art wasn’t his major but he’d like to have it as a back-up if photography didn’t work out, he liked photography and he usually had classes in the morning so this was a nice change.

All things that Akaashi couldn’t care less about, and all things that really should have been irritating to have to listen to. They weren’t, though. There was something about the innocence in the way that he said it all and the pure friendliness that made him talk to anyone who was willing to listen.

Moving away wasn’t even an option at this point. Bokuto should have been _infuriating._ But instead he was interesting, never allowing his conversation to grow dull or irritating in any way. Akaashi wasn’t a people-person, but Bokuto wasn’t a boring, normal person, and Akaashi wanted to listen to him instead of the professor who walked in ten minutes late.

He half expected him to be the type to babble right through the lesson. But Bokuto fell silent when the PowerPoint revved up, eyes glued alertly to the front of the room. He payed attention to the lesson, taking careful notes and answering questions. His handwriting was neat, too, which was just another surprise.

Akaashi shoved the other out of his mind, gluing his own eyes to the front of the room to listen to the lesson. There was a test next week, and Akaashi was _not_ going to fail because some idiot with an interesting voice and stupid hair and innocent eyes decided not to leave him alone.

He was going to have to ask Lev for the notes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Akaashi continued sitting by Bokuto during the lessons, and it was kind of strange having someone to regularly talk to. Bokuto, who made friends with ease and had already befriended the whole class, was loud and flamboyant and packed too much enthusiasm into his voice when he spoke. It was almost funny that, in a room full of people willing to sit by him, he chose to sit next to Akaashi, who never talked to anyone else and only ever answered back in brief, tired replies that couldn’t have been very interesting.

But they must have been enough to work with, because Bokuto kept sitting right next to him and sharing little fun-facts that he’d learned or telling stories about things that had happened during his day, which was always eventful.

He’d never done anything with anyone outside of school, at least not since he’d started college two years ago. And even if he’d sat by Bokuto during lectures, he still hesitated to say yes to a partner project.

 Drawing a living thing. A person, an animal, a plant—it didn’t matter, as long as it was alive. Akaashi probably would have drawn a plant, something still and unthinking, nonjudgmental, uninfluenced.

Instead, he agreed to go to Bokuto’s to draw _Bokuto himself,_ which meant that Bokuto would draw _Akaashi_ in exchange. It took him exactly twenty minutes to regret that choice, and by then he was standing on Bokuto’s doormat while the latter unlocked the door.

Akaashi wondered if it would be impolite to turn around and leave right now. Probably. The silly thing was that Bokuto probably wouldn’t even mind—or, at least, he wouldn’t be too offended by it. He’d probably go right back to smiling and chatting about his day the next time they sat down together in the 3A lecture hall.

Akaashi didn’t turn tail and run. He followed Bokuto inside.

The inside of the apartment was clean, and Akaashi wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Probably because Bokuto was so energetic, Akaashi had half-expected to find things scattered everywhere. (He couldn’t judge, of course, because his apartment would have been just the same).

The whole apartment smelled kind of sweet, like brown sugar. They’d probably been baking recently, though, because Akaashi couldn’t think of a single time where he’d ever heard _anything_ being described as smelling like brown sugar, and Bokuto himself smelled like Old Spice.

“Tsukki might be back soon, but he won’t bug us. We’ll bug him more than he’ll bug us, actually.”

“Tsukki?”

“Yeah, my roommate!” Bokuto began to rummage through a carefully organized desk drawer, pulling out supplies and setting them next to an easel.

“Oh,” Akaashi picked up a tube of paint, reading the label. “Are you good friends?” He wasn’t sure why he was interested, or why he even cared. Why was he even mildly interested in knowing if Bokuto was friends with his roommate? Of course he was. Bokuto was friends with everyone. Akaashi twisted open the cap of the paint, squeezing a small bit onto his hand.

“We’re soulmates, actually.” Bokuto grinned as he shut the desk drawer again. “Our tattoo’s a little weird, but I like it.” Bokuto rolled up his sleeve to show Akaashi two birds on the inside of his arm. Birds weren’t a weird tattoo, but they were spaced apart so that it seemed more like a personal tattoo than a soulmate marking.

Akaashi smeared the paint on his hand. It wasn’t pretty anymore, not smeared into his skin so that it turned an uglier shade. “Ah.”

Some part of Akaashi was interested in the fact that Bokuto knew his soulmate, and even more so in the fact that he’d never brought it up randomly, with everything he talked about. People who smeared it around got on Akaashi’s nerves. Nothing was as pretty when it was smeared.

“What about you—have you found your soulmate yet? Just wondering, anyway, you don’t have to answer.” Ah, how rare it was that someone was polite enough to respect that. With anyone else, Akaashi probably would have jumped on the opportunity and changed the subject. He found himself not wanting to let Bokuto down, instead.

“No.” He replied, voice flat. “I’m not interested in that kind of thing.”

“Oh? But what if your soulmate is?” It may have sounded like an accusation coming from someone else, but Akaashi couldn’t hear it as one the way that it had been said. It sounded more like an honest question, rather.

“I wouldn’t know. I got rid of my tattoo.” The paint was so smudged into his hand that it became unappealing to even touch. The color, once vibrant and pretty, was dull and ugly. The texture, once smooth and oily, was sticky and dry.

Bokuto didn’t reply for a minute, and Akaashi glanced up expecting to see him giving him the same look that Kuroo had given him all those months ago. Instead, Bokuto was sharpening a pencil.

“That’s it?” Akaashi asked. “No barrage of questions? No accusations?”

“Not unless you want me to,” Bokuto shrugged, eyes scanning Akaashi’s face as he selected a pencil. “I’m not your soulmate and I’m not you, so it’s not really worth putting a lot of thought into if it’ll never be up to me to have an opinion on. That’s just what you chose to do.”

Akaashi pretended those words weren’t a big deal as he picked up a 4B and sharpened it.

After all, they really shouldn’t have been such a big deal to him. Since when did he care what anyone said about his choices?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When ‘Tsukki’ got home, Akaashi learned that in the case of friendship outside of class with Bokuto, he wouldn’t have trouble tolerating being around Bokuto’s roommate. When he walked in and set his keys down, greeted loudly by Bokuto, the first thing that he said was,

“Didn’t you say you were going to make dinner tonight?”

Bokuto’s eyes snapped up from the drawing that he’d already managed to focus on like he’d never been distracted and he’d smiled innocently.

“Did I?”

“You did.”

“Mm, that’s right, I do recall saying that now.” He set his pencil down. “Do you mind taking a break for a little bit, Akaashi?”

Akaashi shook his head. It wouldn’t have mattered either way, because Bokuto was already up and in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for something. He was also already back to talking at a hundred words per minute.

“—which will probably be really good, I think, but Aone says that he thinks it won’t work, so I guess we’ll see! Oh, I almost forgot—Akaashi, this is Tsukki.”

“Tsukishima,” the blond said, in placement of a hello. Akaashi really couldn’t have cared less what the greeting was, as long as he got to answer back just as simply.

“Mm,” sufficed, Akaashi decided, and if Tsukishima was at all offended by the noncommittal reply he didn’t show it. He didn’t really seem to care too much about Akaashi’s presence in general, though. Akaashi couldn’t say that he was complaining about that, either, though.

Bokuto set the oven to preheat, and Akaashi wondered in the back of his mind if he was good at cooking. He decided that he would probably be surprised when it came to that, as well. As hyper as Bokuto was, he had proven to be able to concentrate better than Akaashi could.

Tsukishima wasn’t at all what Akaashi was expecting. They fit together perfectly, though, somehow. Tsukishima wasn’t particularly conversational, but replied to Bokuto and asked little questions to keep his endless stream of words going, whether he was interested or not.

Akaashi and Tsukishima were playing something damn close to a game of ‘pretend Akaashi doesn’t exist’, which Akaashi was pretty glad for, but Bokuto didn’t seem to be getting the hint, continually roping Akaashi back into the conversation when he thought he’d finally escaped.

And yet, Tsukishima wasn’t rude. He was concise and never once cracked a smile or let emotion seep into his eyes, but he wasn’t rude or cold towards Akaashi as they sat across from each other at the counter while Bokuto jabbered away innocently. And when Bokuto disappeared for a long stretch of minutes to go plug his phone in (really, how long did it take??), Tsukishima didn’t drop any act that he might have been putting up for the sake of wanting his soulmate to think he liked his friend, which may have meant that Tsukishima genuinely tolerated Akaashi, and Akaashi was surprised to find that he could tolerate Tsukishima just as easily.

Bokuto had returned, innocently saying that his charger hadn’t been working so he’d taken ‘Tsukki’s’.

Tsukishima had rolled his eyes without commenting, and Akaashi wasn’t sure if it had been a degree of fondness in his eyes that he’d seen when he’d done it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was hardly the last time that Akaashi had been over to Bokuto and Tsukishima’s.  Whenever they had a project after that they’d pair up and Akaashi would follow Bokuto back to his apartment. Tsukishima would arrive home and they’d ignore each other for a little while, while Bokuto yapped to both of them at once.

Akaashi wasn’t quite sure how he hadn’t tired of such a talkative person, but he didn’t mind the fact that he hadn’t. In fact, it was kind of nice being friends with someone in the way that they were.

(Were they friends? Was that what they were? Was Akaashi reading too much into it?)

(They were friends. Bokuto said they were friends to Tsukishima, which must have meant that they were friends.)

(It was kind of strange having a friend like Bokuto. Akaashi wasn’t complaining.)

Perhaps what was the strangest part was when they started hanging out just for fun. Sometimes Tsukishima would be there, sometimes he wouldn’t. Akaashi never minded him being there, partly because it was interesting to watch how perfectly Tsukishima and Bokuto fit together and partly because he didn’t honestly mind the other that much at all. In fact, Akaashi was willing to say that they were maybe…something close to friends?

Acquaintances, perhaps. Because they never saw each other if not for Bokuto, but when they were together while Bokuto was in the bathroom or grabbing something they got along just fine, sometimes talking and sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence.

Maybe that was the best part about knowing Tsukishima. The comfortable silence. He’d never particularly known anyone who had been silent, because the only person that he was really friends with was Bokuto, which was a strange experience in itself, so knowing a quiet person like Tsukki and getting along with him was also somewhat of a weird thing.

But he wasn’t complaining.

It was kind of nice, actually.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"What's Tsukishima like?" Akaashi wasn't sure why he'd asked— he certainly didn't _care_. He hadn't even meant to ask, but the dwindle in Bokuto's flurry of words hadn't seemed right.   
"Huh? You've met him."  
"No, I mean like... What's he like? When it's just you, and nobody else. What's he really like?" He slid his eyes to look out the window, feeling his face heat up. 'Is that an inappropriate question to ask...? Is that too personal?'  
"Oh," Bokuto sounded thoughtful, which was a first. "Well, he's pretty much the same! 'Cept he talks more and he's more... I dunno, he's less angry, I guess? Not that he's angry, but I guess he kinda comes off like that! Anyway, he's, uh, softer? You too, actually."  
Akaashi turned back around, raising an eyebrow at Bokuto. "Me?"  
"Yeah, you." Bokuto went back to flipping through his textbook. "You're all like... Quiet and angry at people, but not really. Cause you're actually really nice!"   
"Really nice...."  
"Mm!"   
"Oh."   
"Hey, Akaashi?" Bokuto snapped the textbook shut, and Akaashi quirked an eyebrow. "When you said you didn't want a soulmate—did you mean it?"  
Akaashi frowned, shrugging. "I got my tattoo removed, didn't I?"   
"You did," Bokuto agreed, still staring intently at him. "Do you still think that? That it's stupid to have a soulmate? Do you still not want one?"   
Akaashi almost snapped, 'Why would I have changed my mind?' Because really, nothing has changed between now and the rest of his life.

But it had. And maybe his head had, too, because he really wasn't sure anymore. Akaashi turned back to the window, frowning still. "Even if I've changed my mind, I can't go back by regretting something."  
"So you have, then! I don't think the tattoo itself is the important part of the rela—,"  
"I didn't say I changed my mind. I just said changing my mind wouldn't have changed anything else. It doesn't matter, anyway. I don't intend to find my soulmate."

Bokuto hummed, apparently dropping the subject. He did that, when he knew Akaashi was done talking about a certain subject. Maybe that was why it was so easy to be around Bokuto when it was so hard to be around everyone else.   
"And anyway," Akaashi's voiced dropped down to something softer and Bokuto looked up in surprise. "I don't think I'd be a very good soulmate, anyway. I don't like people. I don't like going out. I don't like... I don't like talking to people about things. About anything. I'd be so... disappointing."   
"You're talking now, aren't you?" Bokuto put the textbook on their table, scrawling down notes on a sheet of paper. "You're a lot like Tsukki, actually! And Tsukki gets along just fine with me, and you, actually!" 'How many times did Bokuto say 'actually' in a single day?'

Akaashi shrugged, writing his own notes down and pretending to focus on the page. "Well... That's your opinion."

They both dropped the subject, focusing on their assignment for real after that. Whether or not Bokuto was right, it didn't really matter in the end... right? 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was raining. It was raining, on the one day that Akaashi had actually planned to go someplace with Bokuto that wasn't his apartment.   
Whether the gods were taking pity or hatred out on him, he couldn't really decide.   
They still could have gone out, really, but Bokuto had taken it in stride and just pulled out a stack of movies.   
"We have a lot of old movies..."  
"I don't really watch movies," Akaashi mumbled, then corrected himself when he realized it sounded like he didn't want to watch anything. "So I don't know what any of these are about."   
"They're always better the first time, anyway! Looks like you'll just have to trust me when I say that this one's the best of the best," he didn't show Akaashi the title when he slid it into the DVD player. Akaashi figured that yes, he was just going to have to trust Bokuto's judgement.

The movie was old, but not so old that everything was black and white. Just old enough that all the girls were in colored dresses and all the boys wore tan slacks and white t-shirts.

Bokuto's hair has flattened slightly in the rain, and Akaashi couldn't help but watch him instead of the movie. Was he just bad with people? Was he supposed to be staring like this? Was he just not USED to having someone there to stare at? Was it because he actually looked CUTE with his hair like that, without all the gel to keep it out of his eyes?

If Bokuto noticed, he didn't say. That was fine. That meant that Akaashi could keep thinking about how nice Bokuto's eyes—

No. No, he couldn't keep thinking that. Yes—yes he could, because nobody was going to know what he was thinking, and nobody was going to know that Akaashi thought that the innocence and vibrancy about Bokuto—

Akaashi really, really needed to start hanging out with other people. His social skills weren't just lacking anymore, they were downright atrocious. The whole point of boycotting a soulmate was to fall in love with someone on his _own_ , but the point was also to not have to fall in love, but by choosing to do so. And this was _far_ from choosing.

Akaashi wouldn't call it love, the feeling that squeezed his chest like a vice when he saw Bokuto's eyes gleam after a sad commercial. He wouldn't call it love, the way that he felt the need to make those eyes happy again. Maybe it was just eyes. He'd felt guilty about the reluctance in Kuroo's eyes, anyway.

It was terrible, the need to see happiness in eyes.

"Oh, this is the best part." Bokuto's eyes were still absorbed in the movie, and he was still completely unaware of Akaashi's thoughts. Akaashi's own eyes moved back to the movie. He didn't have a clue what was going on. "This is where they fall in love..."  
"You mean this is where they think they fall in love." 

"No," Bokuto tore his eyes away from the movie, his eyes wide. "This is where they fall in love. She likes everything about him and he likes everything about her—'Kaashi," Akaashi raised an eyebrow at the new nickname. "Soulmates are two souls who match perfectly. It's natural that people would fall in love with perfectly matching souls... See, that's why people are soulmates. Soulmates are people you just can't help but... fall in love with."

Akaashi stared.

“Ah, but that’s a silly way of thinking, isn’t it?” Bokuto laughed, shrugging and looking back at the movie. “That’s how it was with Tsukki, I guess. I would’ve loved him even if I hadn’t had a tattoo telling me to. It just would have happened more slowly, I think, because I wouldn’t be looking for things to love about him, and it would just kind of…happen, I guess? Like people without soulmates, or people who fall in love with someone who isn’t their soulmate.”

“If we have soulmates, then why do people still fall in love with other people?” Akaashi pounced on the chance for an argument, not entirely sure why he was so eager to prove Bokuto wrong.

“Having a matching soul with someone doesn’t mean you’ll love them for _sure_ ,” Bokuto was still smiling while he watched the movie, his eyes following the actors’ hands. “It just means that you’ll probably get along really well with them. So, like, of course people fall in love with other people. It’s just common that you fall in love with your soulmate? I guess you’re probably right about the whole thing being influenced, though. How many people would have really found their soulmate without the marks?”

Akaashi really didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that, or even what was going through his own mind. Bokuto didn’t even notice when he didn’t reply, though, eyes still enraptured in the screen, where the girl and the boy were just falling so naïvely into what they thought was love.

Maybe it was. Maybe they really were so entrenched in some sort of feeling  that they were willing to throw away any choices they could have made for themselves in favor of listening to a little mark on their skin. Stuck there, clinging like a parasite and sucking away the ability to think for _themselves._

If you asked Akaashi why he hated the soulmate-markings, he probably would have said that exactly. Or, he would have before, because now he wasn’t too sure.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tsukishima got home at the same time as always, shutting the door softly behind him and sitting down at the table without paying any mind to the two boys on the couch. The most attention he gave them was to reply to Bokuto’s enthusiastic greeting.

Akaashi thought it was funny how Bokuto greeted Tsukishima. Every day that Akaashi was over, Bokuto greeted him like they hadn’t seen each other in days, rather than a couple of hours. It was like Bokuto constantly expected Tsukishima to disappear for a couple of days and he came home it was a pleasant surprise.

 _It was cute,_ even if Akaashi wasn’t willing to admit that just yet. A lot of things about Bokuto were cute, actually. A lot of things about him were interesting and captivating and _god damn it,_ when did he become so smitten with someone who had a _soulmate_? It was infuriating, and Akaashi really needed to start meeting other people, because he was beginning to think that ‘friendship’ was even somewhat close to ‘love’.

“Oi, Tsukki, come watch with us.” Bokuto twisted around where he was sitting to peer at Tsukishima, who didn’t even bother glancing over when he replied.

“I have to finish an essay.”

Bokuto huffed, still grinning. “It’s due Wednesday, you have plenty of time. You said you liked this movie, right?”

“I’ve seen it before. What’s the point in watching it again? And just because it isn’t due tomorrow doesn’t mean that it’s not a better idea to—,”

“ _Tsukki._ ”

Tsukishima sent Bokuto a halfhearted glare as he closed his laptop. Akaashi panicked, briefly, as he wondered if he should move to sit somewhere else. Tsukishima and Bokuto would want to sit together, right? And it would just be kind of weird sitting with them, obviously. But would it seem _rude_ to move someplace else, even if it was so that they could sit together?

God, Akaashi hated having to deal with people. Emotions were too complex, too complicated. _People_ were too complex. While Akaashi was on the verge of breaking out in a cold sweat, Tsukishima sat on the smaller couch and stretched his legs out so that they still managed to hang over the end of the couch. _God_ were his legs long.

Bokuto, blissfully aware to the crisis happening in Akaashi’s mind, turned back to watch the movie, content with the arrangement. Assuring himself that everything had been sorted out, Akaashi tried to turn his own attention back to the movie. (Not that he’d ever been watching it in the first place…)

And just as Akaashi was beginning to get some sort of grasp of the plot (boy hasn’t got a soulmate, boy falls in love with a girl, girl probably has a soulmate), Bokuto decided that he’d lost interest.

“What if I got a tattoo?”

Tsukishima never really bothered to look up when he replied to Bokuto. Akaashi wondered if he even needed to. “What would you get a tattoo of? An owl?”

“Oh, _yeah!_ An owl would be cool, Tsukki.”

“An owl would be stupid.”

Bokuto _pouted,_ like he was six and not fully grown. “Don’t be mean, Tsukki.”

“I’m not being mean,” Tsukishima shrugged. “I’m being honest. Are you really even thinking about it?”

“Yeah! I think it’s cool. It’s not like we’d share _that_ one, anyway, so an owl would be okay.” Bokuto twisted again to look at Akaashi, who had been violently trying to stay out of the conversation. “C’mon, ‘Kaashi, wouldn’t an owl be a cool tattoo?”

Akaashi felt himself flush and he half-wanted to sink into the couch and disappear for just a little bit. This movie was on Netflix, if he really wanted to know how it ended. Maybe he should just stand up and leave right now.  “If that’s what you want to get. It’s not really up to me, is it?”

“Mm, guess not!” Bokuto grinned, sticking his tongue out at Tsukishima.  Akaashi wasn’t completely convinced that he was really twenty-something.

Tsukishima snorted softly from where he was sitting, shrugging halfheartedly. “I wasn’t saying you couldn’t. But don’t go get a tattoo on impulse; you won’t be able to get rid of it after that.”

“Untrue! Akaashi’s gotten a tattoo removed before.”

Akaashi really did flush that time. He knew he was probably deep red, and if there really was a merciful God up there he would take pity on Akaashi and keep their eyes attuned to the TV.

There was no merciful God. Tsukishima looked over at them, face devoid of emotion completely. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re going to go and get a tattoo on impulse, and have it removed if you decide you don’t like it, because _Akaashi_ got a tattoo removed, so it’s a fool-proof plan?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And, what, if you regret getting rid of it you’ll just have it put back on?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.”

Tsukishima groaned, turning back to the movie that nobody was watching. “Okay, do whatever.”

“You’d have to go with me. To hold my hand.”

“What?”

“In case it hurts. Does it hurt, Akaashi?”

“I don’t know. I never got a tattoo, I just got one removed. But it hurt getting it removed.” Maybe the merciless God would take pity on him for being so pathetic. Maybe Akaashi would get an urgent text from somebody saying he absolutely had to leave right then and there.

Akaashi wasn’t really sure _who_ would text him, though, because the only person who he ever even talked to was Bokuto. And Bokuto wasn’t going to text him saying that he had to leave right then and there because Akaashi was sitting right _next_ to Bokuto.

“That’s fine! It’s still a good idea.”  

“It’s a terrible idea.” Tsukishima seemed to have given up, shrugging once more. His voice went back to the unwavering, emotionless monotone. It was kind of weird, not knowing exactly what Tsukishima was thinking in the same way that he’d become used to knowing what Bokuto was thinking.

People were too complex. It would be so much easier if Akaashi just went back to never going anywhere other than home and classes.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bokuto wasn’t kidding, in the end. He really had been set on some sort of tattoo. Akaashi never bothered to ask what it was that made the whole thing seem so appealing to him, but didn’t say no when Bokuto dragged him along with Tsukishima when Bokuto really did get it.

The tattoo parlor was emptier than it had been when Akaashi had gone in. There was maybe one or two people getting tattoos in the back, but the only other person in the building was Kuroo, who lounged leaning on the counter. Tsukishima yawned when they walked in, already holding hands with Bokuto. Akaashi found that aspect kind of cute, honestly, their hand-holding.

Something changed in Kuroo’s face when he made eye contact with Akaashi. Akaashi remembered those eyes, the reluctance and the humor that had been in them before. There wasn’t much in them not, just tiredness. Akaashi wondered why he was tired. He wondered why he cared at all if somebody he didn’t know what tired.

“Back again?” Kuroo straightened up, sliding his phone into his pocket.

“No,” Akaashi muttered, glancing down and out the window. He let Bokuto bound forward, talking excitedly to Kuroo and making equally excited gestures towards the tattoo that he planned on getting. Akaashi glanced at Tsukishima, wondering if he was at all bothered by any of this. He caught the other’s eye, flushing slightly when they made eye contact.

“You’re so nervous all the time.” Tsukishima started to follow Bokuto to the back of the parlor, breaking the contact. “Loosen up.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“ _Ahhh,_ look how cool, Tsukki!” Bokuto’s silver hair fell into his eyes, ungelled for once, as he proudly showed the tattoo to his soulmate. “Isn’t it cool?”

“It’s nice,” Tsukishima appeased, sounding like he was more focused on rummaging through his pockets for his keys.

He found them, unlocking the door and walking in. Tsukishima tossed his keys onto the counter, glancing back at Bokuto before moving into the kitchen to make dinner. “I thought you were just getting the one?”

“Huh? I just got the owl, cause owls are cool.”

“And the one on your arm by our tattoo.”

Akaashi glanced at the inside of Bokuto’s arm, to the two birds. There was a single circle on the inside of his arm, which made a panicked flutter go through Akaashi’s stomach. Wasn’t that his mark? Wasn’t that in the exact same placing?

No, no, his was further over. That was just a creepy coincidence, and Akaashi wasn’t really sure why Bokuto would have wanted a stupid circle there on his arm, anyway.

“I didn’t get anything on my arm—oh…” Bokuto was staring down at his arm, having rolled up his sleeve, paused where he was standing in the hallway. He unfroze after a moment, going to the kitchen and grabbing Tsukishima’s arm. Bokuto rolled up the sleeve, tracing over something with his finger.

“What are you doing?”

“You have it, too…” Tsukishima stopped flipping through the recipe book to follow Bokuto’s gaze down to his arm. “What does that mean? Is that another soulmate mark, do you think…?”

Tsukishima frowned, still staring at his arm. “It can’t be. That’s not how soulmates work.” He shook his head, turning back to dinner like nothing had happened in the first place.

 _“Tsukki,”_ Bokuto insisted, tugging back his own sleeve. “They don’t just show up, right? Have we met anyone new today? Why else would a _circle_ show up on both of our arms in the middle of the birds?”

“I don’t know, Bokuto,” Tsukishima sighed, putting down the spoon he’d been holding. He turned to face Bokuto, still frowning slightly.

“Kuroo.” Akaashi flushed when they both turned to look at him. “You met Kuroo today—n-not that I’m saying Kuroo’s got anything to do with this, just that you met him today…”

“Kuroo? I don’t know anyone called that.” Frowns didn’t look right on Bokuto’s face. Up until now Akaashi couldn’t even picture a serious frown on Bokuto’s face. He couldn’t put the words ‘serious’ and ‘Bokuto’ together, actually.

Akaashi willed away the blush the best that he could. “The guy who did your tattoo.”

“Oh…” Bokuto fell silent again, glancing over at Tsukishima like he would have the answers. “Three soulmates? Does that happen? That can’t be what it means.” His eyes were silently pleading for Tsukishima to explain the whole mess.

“I don’t _know,_ Bo. Maybe if we went there to talk to see if anything happened on his arm? He’s the only person we talked to today.”

“Then we have to go _right now,_ or it’s gonna close!” Bokuto grabbed his coat, tugging it on. He shoved Tsukishima’s coat towards him. “Maybe he doesn’t have anything to do with this, but we’ve gotta know, right?”

“Wouldn’t you rather think it over…?” Tsukishima mumbled. He would follow Bokuto there, if Bokuto went. Even if Tsukishima didn’t want to, he would follow Bokuto. Even if he thought Bokuto was being stupid or moving too quickly, if Bokuto went out there to find Kuroo, Tsukishima would look with him. Bokuto grabbed his keys. Tsukishima pulled on his own coat.

“Are you coming, Akaashi? You’ve met Kuroo before, if you know his name.”

Akaashi flushed again. Didn’t Tsukishima know they were supposed to pretend Akaashi didn’t exist? Had they ever even _spoken_ before? “Not re—,”

“Well, it’ll make it easier to find him if he’s already left work!” Bokuto urged them, flinging open the door and bustling into the hallway. Akaashi could hear his footsteps pounding down the hall to the elevator from the kitchen. Tsukishima shrugged, following.

Akaashi wondered how far Tsukishima would follow Bokuto. How far was _Akaashi_ willing to follow Bokuto? Bokuto, who had a soulmate, and who Akaashi should probably just leave alone.

He shut the door behind him when he followed them to the elevator.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For all the rush, it didn’t look like Kuroo was getting off work any time soon. He was still draped over the counter and absorbed in his phone, looking lazy and punk with his hair falling into his face and his baggy, black shirt. When they walked in he didn’t even glance up.

“How can I help you?” He asked in a bored voice, shutting his phone off with an electronic click.

“Let me see your arm!” Bokuto demanded loudly, pointing at Kuroo. Akaashi winced, already regretting his choice to come along as a man in the back turned to look at them.

“ _Bokuto,_ ” Tsukishima hissed from behind his boyfriend. “Seriously.”

“Sorry. May I _please_ see your arm?” Bokuto’s boyfriend rolled his eyes from next to Akaashi. Kuroo stared at them.

“What? My arm? Which one?” His eyes weren’t as confused as the rest of him seemed, but he still looked like he didn’t have a clue what was going on. Maybe he did, the same way that Bokuto and Tsukishima knew.

“Your left one!” Bokuto continued pointing. Akaashi could feel his face turning redder. Kuroo raised an eyebrow, tugging his sleeve up and showing it to Bokuto.

“Weren’t you in here earlier?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Bokuto’s finger moved from Kuroo’s face down to his arm. “It’s on your arm, too! Except, yours is different.” Bokuto frowned again, moving aside to let Tsukishima see.

“Huh? What’s on my arm?” Kuroo pulled his sleeve down again, straightening up. “You’re talking about the soulmate mark. It changed, earlier. I thought people were only supposed to have one soulmate, though.”

“Why does _no one else_ sound surprised about this?” Bokuto whined, looking accusingly at Tsukishima. “This isn’t some boring politics talk! This is a _big deal._ ” He stressed the words ‘big deal’ like he could talk it into them to being shell-shocked over the whole thing.

“It’s got to be a mistake, right?” Kuroo ventured. “Three soulmates? Anyway, it doesn’t mean we’re soulmates, does it?”

“We’re not talking about dinner! It’s not a _casual conversation!_ ” Bokuto continued whining.

“Matching soulmate tattoos usually mean that.” Tsukishima shrugged, hands in his pockets.

“ _Tsukki._ ”

“But we’ve both already got soulmates,” Kuroo frowned. “Your tattoos matched earlier, before they changed. That’s why mine is different. If _we’re_ soulmates, then you’d be soulmates with my soulmate, too.” 

“Akaashi,” Bokuto resorted to spinning around to face his friend. “Make them stop talking about dinner.” Kuroo’s eyes flicked upwards to stare at Akaashi, like he hadn’t seen him before.

Akaashi stuck his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. “I’m not a part of this.” When Tsukishima’s eyes turned to look at him it occurred to Akaashi that everyone was staring at him now.

“Your soulmate,” Tsukishima turned back to Kuroo. “The tattoo wouldn’t show up on us if their soul wasn’t connected to the whole soulmate aura anymore. That’s the only reason that a soul wouldn’t match up with a perfect match. And if _your_ soul is a perfect match, then their soul matches _ours.”_

 _“Four_ soulmates,” Bokuto groaned.

“It was your idea to come here, wise guy,” Tsukishima snapped. “And we still know that we’re all… what does your tattoo look like, if it looks different?”

Akaashi’s eyes trailed down Kuroo’s arm when he tugged his sleeve up again. The two birds, identical to Bokuto and Tsukishima’s, flew on the top and bottom of a cliché infinity sigh, rather than the single circle on the other’s arms. Kuroo shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “It was just the infinity sign before. My tattoo was just the circle that you have.”

“Should _your_ soulmate be here to hear this?” Akaashi probably shouldn’t have said anything, because they were all looking at him again, now. Not to mention, this wasn’t his mess in the first place and he should probably have just sneaked out the back. Kuroo frowned, though Akaashi wasn’t sure why.

“My soulmate doesn’t want _one_ soulmate, much less three.”

“How can someone not want a soulmate?” Bokuto was back to whining.

Akaashi scowled at him, snapping, “maybe they want to decide on their own and not listen to a dumb tattoo!”

“That’s not what I mean, ‘Kaashi!”

“Well _think_ before you speak and stop _whining!_ ”

“You’re all acting like it’s not even important!”

“Maybe it’s _not._ ” Tsukishima’s voice was a bland contrast.

“ _Tsukki!_ ”

“Stop arguing.” Kuroo sounded tired. “Honestly, if you want to just go home and pretend this didn’t happen, go for it. It’d make all this a lot easier.”

Bokuto pouted again, thumb trailing over the edge of the counter. “Do you not want a soulmate, either?” Kuroo shrugged, eyes shifting away.

“Well, it’s a nice thought. But it’s not for everyone, apparently.”

The room quieted for the first time since Bokuto had arrived with his loud shouting. Akaashi was surprised to see that the entire building wasn’t staring at them. Maybe this was a common occurrence here?

“No,” Tsukishima spoke up again, voice decisive. “I don’t think I would be able to just go back home knowing that we have another soulmate someplace else that we never really spoke to. _Two_ soulmates.”

Kuroo’s eyes flicked back over to Akaashi’s and his heart sped up, pounding in his chest. Bokuto was talking again, but all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. Those damn _eyes._ Maybe Akaashi didn’t want his own soulmate because he had a knack for falling in love with _other people’s soulmates._

Akaashi straightened up, tearing his gaze away and flushing once more. “This doesn’t have anything to do with me. I shouldn’t be here for this. I hope you figure it out, though.”

“Hey—!” Kuroo called after him as he pushed the door open and walked outside as calmly as he could.

Akaashi waited until he’d wrapped around the corner of the street to start running. _Why_ did he do that? What was so special about _Kuroo_ or _Bokuto_ or _Tsukishima?_

Why did it matter so much that they were all there finding out they had three soulmates? That sucked for them, right? Just more of a mess to fall into, right?

But _god,_ what if Bokuto was right? It didn’t seem fake anymore, not with the way that they held hands and spoke to each other and greeted each other. How could that be _fake?_ That was love, what was in their eyes when they greeted each other. Love and affection and gentleness in all honesty, all because of a stupid tattoo.

_“I would have fallen in love with Tsukki, anyway.”_

What a burden, love was. That’s all it was, just a messy burden that made you do stupid things for stupid people that you didn’t really care about.

_He would follow Bokuto anywhere._

Making dumb sacrifices for _dumb people._ Kuroo wanted a soulmate, didn’t he? And he was just going to sit back and never fall in love because his soulmate didn’t want a match?

Akaashi may have been doing that to someone. He may have been doing that to somebody, somebody who he’d never even met. It wasn’t his fault, though. It wasn’t _his_ fault that this whole stupid system was in place.

It was too late to regret it. The tattoo was already gone, and he could meet his soulmate any day and he wouldn’t ever know it. They wouldn’t ever know it. Somebody was going to go through their life thinking they never had a soulmate in the first place, and if they were as committed to the system and everyone else was, they’d live a sad, lonely life alone and it would be because Akaashi was too selfish to go along with what fate wanted.

 _“I’m pretty sure you can’t get it back.”_ What had that meant? Had that been Kuroo’s way of saying ‘ _don’t regret it’_? Akaashi had been convinced that Kuroo regretted removing it more than Akaashi regretted having it moved. That had been what he wanted. That had been what he was so sure of, and he’d thought he’d never go back on that sureness in a million years.

He wasn’t so sure, anymore. If there was any way to go back, he just might have.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Apparently they worked something out. According to Bokuto they hadn’t, and the conversation had just ended in them exchanging numbers and deciding that was good enough.

It must not have been ‘good enough’ there, though, because they texted every day and it took a whole week and a half for Bokuto to start investing time into going to get coffee with Kuroo.

Tsukishima and Akaashi were acquaintances. They tolerated each other because Bokuto was their middle ground. With Bokuto out doing more than just watching an inane amount of movies now, though, Akaashi ended up still going over to their apartment. That left Tsukishima there to see. They still didn’t talk much, but maybe that was just because neither of them was too fond of words.

Bokuto was usually there to make it seem loud. Akaashi didn’t feel as if they’d lost Bokuto, he just felt like it was strange not having him around when Akaashi had become so accustomed to seeing him constantly.

Akaashi ended up asking Tsukishima what he thought of the whole thing. Apparently he hadn’t made up his mind on what he wanted, yet. He would leave the whole thing to Bokuto, who could obviously be friends with Kuroo if he wanted to.

“They’re soulmates, too. I’m not going to stop them from seeing each other. I just…don’t know if I want to change anything.”

“If Bokuto ends up wanting to, though—,”

“I know.” Tsukishima didn’t sound angry. What he was saying wasn’t to quell Akaashi’s curiosity, and it was all the truth. “And maybe I’d change my mind, then. We aren’t soulmates for nothing.”

There had been a pause, then. Akaashi didn’t know if he should continue or if Tsukishima would prefer silence. And he still wasn’t sure _why he cared._

“You don’t want a soulmate.” Tsukishima wasn’t even looking at him, but his voice made Akaashi wonder if he could see right through him. “But what if your soulmate wants one? If you met them on the street, and you knew, somehow, what would you do?”

Akaashi paused, shrugging. His fingers ran over the cold countertop. The granite was fake. “I don’t know.  I wouldn’t drop everything and pretend to fall in love.”

“Do you think we’re pretending? Bokuto and I?”

“No,” Akaashi whispered. “You’re not. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be.”

Tsukishima hummed dully in response, his voice still void of emotion. “Kuroo’s soulmate didn’t want a soulmate, even if he was fond of the idea. They don’t even talk.”

Akaashi didn’t reply, shrugging and staring down at the countertop. Tsukishima didn’t push the topic any further, leaving it be how it was. Akaashi couldn’t bring himself to be entirely glad, thinking over what Tsukishima said.

“I couldn’t know, anyway. I might have met my soulmate by now. It wouldn’t show up on either of us. Maybe I regret doing what I did, but I can’t go back anymore.”

Tsukishima didn’t say anything, and the clock ticked too loudly in the background. It was an old clock, and it was so deafeningly loud that Akaashi couldn’t believe he’d never noticed it before.

 

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Being friends with Bokuto and (evidently) Tsukishima meant also knowing Kuroo. How in the _world_ Akaashi went from a sole friend to work on projects with to Saturday nights at dinner with three other people, he wasn’t sure.

It wasn’t like too much had changed, honestly. It felt the same as it had when he’d first started hanging out with Bokuto. It still felt just as right, and just as terrifying. He still spent the whole night silently chanting a mantra of ‘ _please don’t look at me, please don’t talk to me, please don’t notice me_ ’, but it was still nice to be around them.

Kuroo fit in with them casually, like he’d run into Bokuto during class, too, and not like they’d found out they were soulmates. Nobody ever brought up the topic, and nobody ever acted like anything changed other than Kuroo’s presence. And Kuroo himself fit in with them perfectly. It was probably because he was with his soulmates (and Akaashi, but who even noticed Akaashi was there anymore?).

They were a jigsaw puzzle. Each piece snapping perfectly together, fitting so perfectly it was as if they’d never been apart in the first place. Wherever the fourth piece was, whoever they were, they didn’t want to be a part of the puzzle. And Akaashi hated them for it. Jealously, selfishly hated them for it. These perfect boys, these perfect boys in their perfect puzzle, and someone willingly stayed away? Maybe they didn’t want a soulmate—neither did Akaashi—but how could they stay away completely when they knew someone as perfect as Kuroo existed?

Akaashi loved them. He loved them all. And he hated himself for loving them the way that he did. Maybe he himself wasn’t supposed to love someone the way that they all loved each other (even Kuroo, who fit perfectly in Bokuto’s side and who was just the right height to hug Tsukishima comfortably), but he was, at the very least, grateful that he’d seen them all together. Maybe if he hadn’t he would still be hateful and bitter and disbelieving, but maybe that would have been better.

Their secondhand love was better than sitting alone at the front of the 3A lecture hall, Akaashi had decided. He wasn’t as important to them as they were to each other, but that was _alright,_ really. He didn’t want to be important to them. If he was important to them, they’d rely on him for things. Could he do that for them—for anyone? Could he follow someone into something he wasn’t prepared for? Could he trust someone wholeheartedly? Could he ever _love_ someone the way that they’d need to be loved? He’d be a terrible soulmate. He’d be a truly terrible soulmate from start to end, and there wasn’t any way that it could possibly be better for him to be with someone.

Akaashi wouldn’t talk when they wanted to talk. He wouldn’t be able to answer the way that they wanted him to answer and he wouldn’t be able to follow them how they needed to be followed. Akaashi wasn’t good for _doing,_ he was good for _watching._

He watched them all fall in love, he watched them all exchange favorite movies, he watched them all argue over popcorn and he watched them all argue over who had to pick up the popcorn. He watched them all settle on the couch together, curled up warmly and fitting together in that perfect jigsaw puzzle.

He watched them from the floor, and he didn’t mind even once, because it was better than doing.

Akaashi would much rather watch them all argue playfully than be one of them, curling up on the couch. How were you supposed to do that? Was there a way that you were supposed to sit, to fit together how they did? And what about their playful arguing? What if he didn’t _want_ to argue, what if he didn’t want to say anything at all? And what was he supposed to _say,_ anyway?

No, it was much better to watch from afar than to truly love someone wholeheartedly the way that they all did.

He watched, still, as Kuroo and Bokuto muted the movie and voiced it over themselves. And he watched, still, as Tsukishima called them both idiots with fondness creeping through his voice. He watched, still, as Bokuto got up to make more popcorn and he watched Bokuto burn said popcorn so badly that Tsukishima got up to make a batch himself.

He could hear them bickering in the kitchen, but he didn’t hear Kuroo get up to join them.

Akaashi tipped his head back to look at Kuroo, who offered him a small smile.

“It’s not just ‘settled’, anymore.” Akaashi mumbled, looking back at the muted movie, like he had any idea what was going on plot-wise.

“Huh?” Akaashi felt Kuroo stretch his legs out over the whole couch.

“Before, you said you’d just settled things…but you weren’t really anything with them. You all just acted like you’d met someplace as friends. But…you’re soulmates, now. Like, really soulmates. You all fit together.”

Kuroo hummed, tilting his head back to watch them. “Well, that’s how soulmates work, y’know? It’s the person, or the people, that you fit with perfectly. I bet you’d fit together just as well with your soulmate.”

“No,” Akaashi picked at the dry skin on his hand. “I wouldn’t. I’m not…really…good for that kind of thing.”

“You can’t be bad at being a soulmate,” Kuroo insisted.

“Yes you _can._ Soulmates—you have to be devoted to them. All the time, in movies and in books and _here,_ everyone’s so in _love._ They’re crazy. They do everything for each other, they follow each other, they’re…they’re made for each other, and you can tell. That’s how it _works._ But I… I don’t know, I don’t get people. I don’t _like_ people. Until I met Bokuto, I never saw _anyone_ outside of class, because there wasn’t any point.” Akaashi shook his head, biting his lip. He forced himself not to look at Kuroo, trying to voice his thoughts.

“I could never do that. I could never devote myself to someone like that. I can’t fit how everyone else seems to fit. Nobody makes sense, I’d just make a mess of it. Getting a disappointing soulmate is worse than no soulmate. I can fumble through _this,_ through friendship, but not…not that. Not when it means so much to everyone. I don’t want to mess that up. But I would.”

The TV hummed quietly on its little stand. The characters on the screen were saying something, exchanging soft little words that Akaashi couldn’t make out. Nobody said anything for a million years. There was one million years of silence, then, dragging on and on and never ending.

“Akaashi,” Kuroo whispered, finally. “C’mere.”

His breath hitched, slightly, and he didn’t move for another million years. And finally, _finally,_ his brain remembered how to control his heavy limbs and he shifted, clambering up onto the couch and continuing to refuse to look at Kuroo.

“Can you look at me?”

Of course Akaashi couldn’t do that. If he looked into those eyes, he’d lose it. He’d lose his mind and his sanity and everything that he’d ever had.

Akaashi looked at him.

“You wouldn’t be a bad soulmate. I don’t think your soulmate would be very disappointed at all, actually.” A pause. “I’m not disappointed, at least.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Akaashi breathed, looking back at the ground. Tsukishima and Bokuto had long-since stopped making all their noise in the kitchen. He didn’t have to look _there_ to know that they’d gone silent because they’d heard the conversation happening in the living room. What ever happened to movie night?

“Remember when you came in to get your tattoo removed? The first time I met you? You didn’t look at your tattoo the entire time, and you just stared out the window instead. I don’t know what was out there that was so interesting, but you never once looked anywhere else.” Another pause, longer than the first time. “But it looked the same as mine did, just to the left. A circle. A stupid, thin circle, when everyone else had birds and trees and flowers and diamonds and other cliché, beautiful things.

“Mine was a circle, too. And instead of having a second half show up, instead of having another circle show up, they kind of…merged together? They twisted on the inside and got smoother—I wish you’d seen it, it was really cool.” Akaashi didn’t know when he’d stopped breathing, but his lungs were begging for air. “My mom always told me what to do when I met my soulmate. Proper manners and chivalry, you know? But she never told me what to do if they came in looking to get their tattoo _removed._ But you didn’t want a soulmate, and you wanted the tattoo gone, and that was my job. Who the hell was I to talk you out of that?

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t, though. Sometimes I wish I spun you around and said it to your face, told you then and there who I was to you, who you were to _me._ Watching you leave sucked. It really did. But I’m not _disappointed._ I’ve never been disappointed knowing you’re my… knowing you’re my soulmate. _Our_ soulmate. And I know you don’t want a soulmate—much less _three—_ and that’s fine, at least with me. You don’t need to do anything different.”

Akaashi remembered the carpet being darker than this. Had they moved the TV to the left? Was it to cover that stain that was poking out of the corner of the stand? Probably.

“Okay,” he whispered, trying to wrap his mind around that. The yearning desire to be with them had morphed into a desire to never have anything like that, earlier. It wasn’t either right now. It wasn’t either of those things right now. Right now Akaashi didn’t have any clue what he wanted. From them, from himself, from anything or anybody.

People were too confusing for this.

“Oi, ‘Kaashi.” Again, ‘Bokuto’ and ‘serious’ didn’t fit together well, and Akaashi would be startled at the combination no matter how many times he heard or saw it. “Kuroo’s right. I—uh, actually didn’t know that myself before now, and it’s kind of a lot to think about? But he’s still right.”

Akaashi couldn’t do that. He couldn’t be with them, or be like them. Maybe that’s why he had three of them. When he turned tail and ran, they’d still have each other, and there would be so many of them that they wouldn’t even have the time to mourn the loss with all the time they were spending together forgetting about Akaashi.

Where would Akaashi be, then? Where would he be at all without Bokuto?

Akaashi clenched his fists, almost angrily. Was he angry? He didn’t feel angry. If he didn’t close his eyes now, would he cry? Was he sad? He didn’t feel sad. He didn’t feel much of anything but confused.

“I said I wouldn’t do this—,” Akaashi had _sworn_ he’d never do this. “I said I wouldn’t _love_ someone because a tattoo told me I had to, and I didn’t. But I ended up falling in love anyway. I can’t _do_ those things for you. I _can’t,_ and I’m _sorry._ I’ll never be able to be who you need me to _be._ ”

“Why do you think you can’t?”

“I don’t understand what I need to say, or do,” it was hopeless, trying to explain it all to them. It would be easier to turn-tail and run away. It was hopeless, trying not to cry now. “You all talk to each other, you all talk and you all know what to say and it runs smoothly—and I’d never know what to say.”

“We’ve talked plenty of times. When you’re not caught up in thinking about trying to say the perfect thing. You don’t need to _try,_ Akaashi. You’re fine how you are. Talking isn’t about making the perfect conversation, it’s just saying what you’re thinking. We’re talking now.” Kuroo’s voice was firm.

Akaashi’s voice was weak, almost brittle. “Soulmates are supposed to fit together.” His argument was just as weak, now. His voice was weak, his resolve was weak, and he was on the verge of crying for real.

Warm arms enveloped him, wrapping around his waist and covering him like a blanket. A head rested on his shoulder. “We fit together perfectly,” Kuroo mumbled, sounding proud of himself. The couch sank behind him, and another pair of arms and the smell of Bokuto’s shampoo joined the mix.

“It would be _weird_ not having you around now,” Bokuto agreed. “So it wouldn’t matter if you weren’t our soulmate—I would’ve loved you anyway!”

_Does he remember saying that, about Tsukishima, all those months ago?_

“You already fit, stupid,” Tsukishima’s voice was gruff, and he didn’t join the hug, but he was sitting there next to them all and it didn’t matter that they weren’t hugging because Akaashi was pretty sure the tears would have come out, anyway. He felt like a toddler.

“I got rid of the mark,” he reminded them.

“We all have it,” Bokuto’s voice was dismissive. “It’s not important.”

“Then what is important?”

“I’ve wanted to hug you for like, five months, and here I am hugging you.”

Akaashi laughed, a hiccup-y, wet sounding laugh. “You could’ve just done it.”

“ _What?_ ” Bokuto whined, groaning. He bounced back quickly. “Well, that’s fine! It’s better now.”

Tsukishima unmuted the movie and Bokuto pulled himself off of Akaashi. He grinned quickly before his eyes darted over to the movie. Kuroo untangled himself, too, but didn’t draw back. Akaashi didn’t object, shifting hesitantly to lean against his chest to watch the movie. It wouldn’t be possible to watch it now. If Akaashi thought it was hard to follow before, it was hopeless now that he was thinking so hard about something that he didn’t want to think about.

Everything was going to change now. Akaashi could cling to it, but everything was going to change and spiral out of control. They’d be fine. They’d hold themselves together like it wasn’t a big deal, and Akaashi would be left falling apart piece by piece until the pieces were too small to glue back together. They’d be fine. They’d always be fine.

This movie wouldn’t be long enough for Akaashi to figure everything out before it was over, even if Bokuto had started it over.

~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~~

Akaashi expected them to jump right into a relationship. Holding hands, sitting together, romantic gestures and other terrifying prospects.

He wasn't sure _why_ he was so worried about that. They didn't force anything onto Kuroo, and Kuroo was open to everything they’d wanted. Kuroo was open to what Akaashi wanted, too, offering to keep things the way they were. Was that what they wanted? Would be upset them by saying he didn't want to be a part of what they had? He wouldn't be able to keep up.

Akaashi, in all honesty, wanted things to stay how they were. Knowing that he would have had the same tattoo as all of them meant that he was allowed to watch movies with them and he was allowed to go places with them without it being strange anymore. He knew _they_ wanted to make something of it, because they were supposed to have matching marks on their arms. But they didn't. They didn't have matching tattoos. They didn't have any reason to feel obligated to do things with him, and yet they still did.

Because they wanted to be his soulmates. Because their souls matched, and that made them all happy.

Akaashi didn't want to be the reason they felt disappointed. When they asked, he agreed. He knew they wouldn't be _mad_ if he said no, and they wouldn't be _mad_ if he said what he wanted to say, but.... he'd be the reason those eyes looked sad.

They all got closer and closer, and Akaashi stayed where he was. They piled onto Bokuto's bed and Akaashi could hear them talking softly and laughing from the couch. (Where he chose to be, they always asked him if he wanted to join them).

Somehow, they’d gone from talking to kissing. Akaashi didn’t want to be with them, but sometimes he almost wished he was. Gentle kisses given as sweet hellos, quick kisses for good-byes, long kisses to shut someone up. They're given and taken like they're not a Big Deal.

They’re a very Big Deal, and Akaashi was not ready.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~

“Tsukki and I always go to California in May,” Bokuto almost walked into a pole, not looking up from his phone. “We still haven’t decided if we’re going this year, though.”

“Why not?” Kuroo placed a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder to steer him out of the way of a woman. “You’ve got pictures on your phone from last year that we’ve seen. It looks fun.”

“Because I’m asking you if you want to come too. Two weeks is too long to not see you, so just come with!”

Akaashi flushed. What do you say to that kind of thing? If he said yes, would that be intruding? Was Bokuto asking to be polite, or did they really want Kuroo and Akaashi to come along? Or maybe just Kuroo? But, if Bokuto wanted them to say yes and Akaashi said _no,_ what would that mean?

Kuroo was a guide dog, using his other hand to tap Akaashi’s cheek. “Stop over-thinking the question.”

“Are you saying you won’t go if we don’t?” Akaashi rubbed at his arm, willing the panicky redness in his face to go away. “You said you hadn’t decided yet.”

Bokuto’s fingers tapped at the screen and he hummed without sounding focused in the slightest. “Well, _yeah._ It’s always fun, but it would be _more_ fun with you, and we’d probably just miss you a ton the whole time.”

“I think it sounds like a lot of fun,” Kuroo said. He’d said the same thing when Tsukishima had asked him if he wanted to just move in with them, since he was always over anyway. Did it sound fun? Maybe Kuroo just found terrifying questions fun. _Fun, fun, fun._

Akaashi frowned, studying the ground. Their legs were so long, it really wasn’t fair how long their strides were…

“ _Akaashi,_ ” Kuroo chided. _Stop over-thinking the question!_

Akaashi tried to stop over-thinking the question. _Did a trip to California with his soulmates sound life fun? Did he want to go if they all went?_ “Yes.” 

Bokuto shut off his phone, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to grin at them. Akaashi tried not to flush again when he made eye-contact with an agitated-looking woman.

“Really? Great!”

“Wait,” Kuroo prodded Bokuto and he set off again at his fast-long-legged pace that was completely unfair to shorter people like Akaashi, who had to keep up with him. “California’s in America.”

“Yes,” Akaashi said again.

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “I _meant,_ do you speak English?”

“I speak enough,” Bokuto was back on his phone, inches away from stepping on a little girl clutching a sucker. “But Tsukki’s mom is from America, so he speaks English, too. Usually I just let him do all the talking.”

Ah. A fact about Tsukishima. Akaashi wondered if he could pay Bokuto into just telling him fun facts about Tsukishima, someday.

“Can we get coffee?” Akaashi wanted to be off of the busy sidewalk. He told himself it was so that Bokuto wouldn’t trample a passerby or hurt himself running into a stoplight. It was probably because of all the angry-looking people with longer legs, though.

How hard would it be to say ‘ _I don’t like being busy places, can we go inside someplace quiet for a few minutes’_? It’s not like either of them would scoff and refuse.

Then again, it wasn’t as if either of them didn’t understand what ‘ _can we get coffee_ ’ really meant. If Akaashi was one of their favorite people, he was their problematic favorite at the very least.

Akaashi would probably die if he went two weeks without them. He’d survived just fine by himself for years, but now that he’d gone months without being alone for more than nine hours, he would most definitely die if he was ever left to fend for himself again. At least with three soulmates there was always somebody willing to go to the store with you when you were too scared to go by yourself. (Not that Akaashi would ever admit to being scared to fetch milk from the store by himself, but he didn’t have to say it for them to understand what ‘I’m going to the store for milk, do you want to go?’ really meant).

“Mm, yeah, I’m starting to get hungry. There’s a place around the corner with really good coffee and bagels.” Kuroo plucked Bokuto’s phone out of his hand as he almost took out another child. “I’m confiscating this for the evening.”

“ _Kuroo,_ ” he whined, not making an attempt to grapple it back.

“ _Bokuto,_ ” Kuroo sang his voice with a lightness in the word that Akaashi would never be able to understand. Was the word light on his tongue naturally, or did he make it that way?

Bokuto must have known the shop Kuroo was talking about, turning at the corner and pushing the door open. A bell chimed loudly when they walked in, and the whole shop smelled like cocoa powder.

Akaashi regretted asking to get coffee. Now he’d have to actually _order_ the coffee, which would mean picking what he wanted and going up there and asking the bored looking man at the counter for it and paying and saying his name for the man to write on a cup and _what were the sizes again?_ Akaashi had made a terrible mistake, and now the entire world was going to fall apart—

“They have a really good green tea lemonade here. You like green tea a lot, right? I think you’d like it, Akaashi.” Akaashi’s eyes swiveled over to Kuroo.

“Okay,” he mumbled.

“Are you going to try that, then? What about you, Bokuto?”

“Peppermint latte,” Bokuto’s voice was decisive. He ran his fingers through his hair as he peered up at the menu. A disturbed piece of hair fell in front of his eyes. Akaashi hated to admit to himself that it was cute like that.

“It’s spring,” Akaashi pointed out, watching the hair get pushed back into place.

“They sell them all year! They’d only do that if they were a drink that was appropriate all year.” Bokuto argued, shaking his head defiantly. “Besides, it smells really nice.”

“What’s the difference between a latte and a Frappuccino?” Kuroo shifted his weight when he concentrated, from his right leg to his left leg and back again.

“ _Kuroo,_ ”

“ _Bokuto,”_

“A latte is caffeinated, better-tasting coffee, and a Frappuccino is an _art form._ ”

“That doesn’t help me at all,” Kuroo muttered, stepping up to order. His voice was just as calm talking to a complete stranger as he ordered like it wasn’t a big deal. Akaashi guessed it wouldn’t be, not to him, anyway. Akaashi’s heart was pounding just thinking about it. He swallowed. Kuroo walked back over to them while they waited for their drinks to finish.

“I got a Frappuccino,” Kuroo informed them. “Because I need to know what it is.”

“What if you don’t like it?” Akaashi was sure Kuroo was going to chide him for worrying over little things again.

Kuroo shrugged, still smiling easily. “Then I’ll pretend we got it for Tsukki, like the _best soulmates ever._ ”

“Tsukki likes Frappuccinos,” Bokuto agreed.

“And if _he_ doesn’t like it, we’ll throw it away and have an excuse to come back here again. There’s a new flavor I want to try, anyway. Do you think Tsukki would—,”

“Thank you.” Akaashi interrupted him. _Thank you for knowing what I meant when I asked to get coffee and thank you for ordering for me and thank you for doing anything for me and thank you for existing and thank you for everything._

“Ah, I have too many gift cards to this place.” Kuroo knew what Akaashi was saying. Of course he knew—he always knew. Akaashi knew what Kuroo was saying, too.


	2. What's the Point of Fate if You're Not Going to Listen?! Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knew I was such a sucker for these boys? I'm still accepting prompts for this series and other series, and will add the longer ones to Ao3. Shorter additions will be on my tumblr, @kozu.

May was three weeks away, and Akaashi really regretted saying yes to going to California. Going to a different country, where nobody spoke the same language as him? He’d get lost. He’d die there alone. Some sort of emergency would come up and he wouldn’t speak English and somebody would die because he didn’t know what the paramedics were saying to him.

Or he’d die on the plane. Or he’d die getting on the plane, or off the plane. Or he’d die from some sort of Western disease, or he’d be killed by Americans.

“I’m going to die in California,” he’d mournfully informed Tsukishima when the other two had gone out to get something for dinner.

“You’re not going to die in California.”                               

“I’m going to _die,_ ” Akaashi’s voice was a whisper, like he was sharing some sort of secret. Tsukishima shook his head.

“That would be impressive,” he drummed his fingers on the countertop for a moment before they went back to typing away at his laptop for a handful of silent minutes before they slowed again and went back to typing. “That would be impressive,” Tsukishima repeated. “Because you’d have to somehow lose all three of _us_ first, and that would be more impressive than dying from an American disease.”

Akaashi wondered what Tsukishima would do if he turned to look at him. Did he need a reason to want to stare at him right now? Akaashi _really_ wanted to just turn and stare at him. Would he get in trouble for staring? _Don’t over-think._

Akaashi shifted his gaze from the floor to look at his soulmate. Tsukishima didn’t say anything, if he noticed. His fingers were back to typing loudly and his eyes were glued to the screen like he hadn’t said anything at all. Akaashi had half a mind to just stare at Tsukki for the rest of his life—it wouldn’t be a bad way to spend a hundred years. Looking, staring, it almost felt too intimate. Looking at the floor couldn’t go wrong, and there wasn’t any way that he could accidently make eye contact with somebody, and the floor wouldn’t feel the need to start a conversation.

He really wouldn’t mind seeing Tsukishima’s eyes. They were really nice eyes. He settled for staring at the side of his face, instead. His skin was paler than Akaashi’s, but it went well with his light hair.

Their eyes met and Akaashi felt his whole face turn red. Half of him wanted to flee, throw his eyes back to the floor and wish to disappear into the floor until Tsukki looked away. The other half of him wanted to keep looking, because _Tsukki had really nice eyes._ Akaashi swallowed hard and kept staring.

“Do you have any classes you can’t miss while we’re going to be gone? You might want to talk to your professors about that before we go,” Tsukishima told him, as if this wasn’t the first time they’d ever even made eye contact. _We’re soulmates, and we’ve never even touched…_

Akaashi really wanted to touch Tsukishima. There wasn’t any way he could possibly pull that off, though. He’d open his mouth and he’d say, _‘I really want to hold your hand,’_ in such a way that he’d make Tsukishima stop typing for ten minutes for Akaashi. Akaashi opened his mouth and said, “no.”

“I’d talk to your professors, anyway,” Neither of them looked away.

Akaashi shifted, careful not to pull his eyes away. “Okay.”

“I said the same thing to Bokuto, but he’s not even going to pack until the morning we’re leaving. Would you at least make sure he talks to your English Literature teacher?” Tsukishima blinked, and Akaashi was convinced he was going to look back at his laptop.

“Okay,” he said again, and wondered what was so interesting about him that made them all sure they wouldn’t give him up for the world. (Bokuto’s actual, literal words).

A smirk appeared on the other’s face. “Are we going to keep staring all day?”

“That’d be alright,” Akaashi wasn’t thinking when he replied. When Tsukishima’s smirk deepened and he raised his eyebrows, Akaashi returned to his earlier plan of wishing that he could just sink into the floor.

Tsukki’s fingers were back to drumming on the countertop. Usually they went to the laptop after that, but they kept drumming this time. “Would it, now?” His voice sounded amused. Akaashi wondered if it was really impossible to melt into a little puddle on the ground. “What else would be alright?”

“Holding your hand,” Akaashi muttered, flushing deeper. “Or finishing that movie from before that Kuroo kept muting.”

“Do you have a preference?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll have to do both,” Tsukishima pulled his gaze away. Akaashi mourned the loss of those pretty yellow eyes. The laptop snapped shut and Tsukishima stood up, holding a hand out. Akaashi knew he was going to have a heart attack right then and there. His heart was beating so violently that he just _knew_ it was going to stop, and _then_ he’d melt into a little puddle on the floor that somebody had _just cleaned._

He took Tsukishima’s hand, standing up. His hand was soft and warm, tugging gently to get Akaashi to follow him to the couch. This was probably the equivalent of a normal person’s first kiss, Akaashi thought. When the three of them had kissed for the first time it had been gentle and sweet and a big deal, and this was gentle and sweet and a big deal to Akaashi. It probably shouldn’t have been. Should it have been a big deal like this? Just holding hands and saying what he wanted to say? Pulling _Tsukishima_ away from his laptop?

Possibly the only bad part of this was the fact that the movie was playing now, and Akaashi wasn’t going to remember a moment of it. They seemed to watch movies _every single day,_ and Akaashi _never remembered a single thing._

Screw forgetting things—Akaashi was going to pay attention for once. Without thinking, he twisted around to lean against Tsukki’s chest without letting go of his hand. Tsukishima’s legs spread out over the whole couch. This was how they did it, unfurling together to fit comfortable like a puzzle. They made it look so easy, but Akaashi had been so sure that it would have been an impossible task. He was going to be so disappointed waking up from this dream where he was doing so many impossible things.

He payed attention to the movie for once, eyes trained on the screen. He’d missed the whole beginning of the movie, but it was slow and long and it wasn’t too hard to figure out what the plot was.

Fate must have not wanted him to ever finish a single movie in his life, though, because he was tired and Tsukishima was warm and comfortable. _I’ll just listen to the movie,_ Akaashi reasoned, letting his eyes close.

The couple on the screen started arguing and Akaashi yawned. Fingers ran through his hair, feeling nice.

The door banged open and loud voices filled the apartment, instantly silenced by angry shushing. _The movie’s over…I fell asleep…_

If he opened his eyes now, he’d still be bleary-eyed and tired, but if he kept them closed he’d be able to fall back asleep. Akaashi yawned, burying his face in the warm sweater next to him. The warm sweater belonged to Tsukishima, and was _on_ Tsukishima, but Akaashi had already decided just to worry about that in the morning.

“ _Bro,_ ” Bokuto’s voice was loud. “Akaashi’s not on the floor! You got him on the _couch?_ ” 

“ _Shh,_ ”

“Oh, right.”

Akaashi yawned again, tuning them all out.

When he woke up the next time someone was prodding his side. It was still dark out and they whispered when they spoke. “Do you want to stay on the couch? You can come with us, if you want.” It was still night, and Akaashi wasn’t entirely sure why he wasn’t still _sleeping._ His eyesight was too bleary for him to care what choice he made. Akaashi lifted up his arms like a toddler, letting one of them scoop him up.

Had he ever even been in Bokuto’s room? It smelled like something sweet.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In books, people woke up feeling disoriented and not remembering where they were. Akaashi always remembered where he’d fallen asleep, though. Even if he’d been too tired to care about _where_ he fell asleep last night, he’d been sure he’d care in the morning. Akaashi still didn’t care. He’d been missing out. Bokuto’s bed was warm, and the covers were insanely soft. There was a pair of legs tangled with his own and someone’s back pressed into his own, but it was _warm,_ and Akaashi couldn’t care less about anything else. He’d probably fall back asleep if he tried, but he didn’t really want to fall asleep anymore.

Akaashi stayed in bed, listening to gentle breathing from both sides and closing his eyes to focus on the comfortable feeling. The little sounds of waking up joined eventually, deep yawns and shifting.

“It’s Bo’s turn to make breakfast,” Kuroo murmured sleepily. His voice was raspy and soft in the morning.

“Not if Kuroo’s feeling sweet,” Bokuto mumbled into a pillow.

“Kuroo’s not feeling sweet,” Kuroo yawned again and the pair stopped chattering for at least another ten minutes. When somebody moved after that it was the legs disentangling from Akaashi’s to clamber out of bed. Akaashi mumbled his disapproval, burying his own face in a pillow. Hopefully the couch wouldn’t miss him too much.

The bed dipped again and somebody (Tsukishima—Kuroo’s back was still touching Akaashi’s own back) had a sleeping ‘good morning’ exchange with Bokuto, following him to the kitchen.

“If you get up too I’ll grab onto your legs and I won’t let you leave the room,” Kuroo mumbled. “I’m warm right now.”

“Mm,” Akaashi agreed.

It _was_ warm. It was _really_ warm, and Akaashi didn’t intend to leave when he was so comfortable there. The feeling of warm, bleary grogginess of a comfy night’s sleep had been something that Akaashi had forgotten forever ago.

Akaashi gave in to the smell of breakfast, sitting up and letting the blankets fall off of him. He tugged Kuroo’s shirt, stumbling lazily out of bed and brushing his hair out of his eyes while Kuroo groaned and made his own messy descent out of the bed. His hair was a mess in the mornings before he smoothed it down, apparently.

“Morning,” Kuroo yawned.

Akaashi yawned when after watching Kuroo, giving the other a look. Kuroo smiled innocently.

Akaashi always woke up after Kuroo made his lazy appearance in the kitchen after the other two. Tsukishima and Bokuto did their best to stay quiet until then, but it was impossible to keep sleeping when Kuroo showed up to offer commentary on whatever breakfast was cooking.

It was almost weird, trailing after Kuroo to the kitchen, where Tsukishima looked half asleep still and where Bokuto was mixing something in a bowl. Probably pancakes. It was usually pancakes when Bokuto made breakfast. Akaashi wasn’t complaining; he liked pancakes.

Faintly, in the back of his mind, Akaashi remembered his promise to himself not to fall in love with the other boys standing in the kitchen. Bolding, in the front of his mind, he decided it was already far too late for that.

He’d spent all of his life telling himself that soulmates were stupid and that he was going to stay away. Getting involved in the whole ‘soulmate’ deal was like running your hand through a flame, and even a toddler knew that putting your hand right into a flame meant you were going to get _burned,_ but Akaashi stuck his whole hand in wholeheartedly anyway. If they were fire, Akaashi was a pyromaniac, and he was going to burn to death someday. Slow, painful, terrible.

Was it worth it?

Akaashi was in too deep, so it was probably a relief that they were,  too.

Akaashi hovered outside of the kitchen, sitting on one of the barstools  instead of joining their huddle. The spoon Bokuto was stirring with wasn’t being used to stir anymore and mix was dripping onto the floor. Kuroo finished smoothing down his hair and took to messing up Tsukishima’s, who shot him a withering look but didn’t say anything.

Being too concerned with going back to bed was something he was probably going to regret. Now that he’d given in and slept with them— _literally_ slept with them, they’d probably start asking more and he wouldn’t know how to say _no,_ because what if he made their eyes sad again?

Kuroo and Bokuto flicked mix at each other and Tsukishima told them that he wasn’t going to touch either of them until they change.

“ _Tsukki_ ,” Bokuto whined, pointing the mixing spoon at him.

Tsukishima took the spoon and bowl from his hands, taking over breakfast. “I don’t want that all over me.”

“You won’t even _hold my hand_?”

“No. I don’t want to smell like pancake mix for the rest of the— _oof._ ” Kuroo wrapped Tsukishima in a hug, smearing the pancake mix on Tsukishima’s back. Tsukishima shoved him off, giving them both another glare and pouring the mix into the pan. “I hate you. Both of you.”

“If you don’t want pancake mix on your shirt, you can just take it off…” Kuroo was laughing before he even finished the sentence, grinning from ear-to-ear. They settled down and let Tsukishima take over the job of making breakfast, Bokuto sitting on the counter and Kuroo sitting down next to Akaashi.

“You smell like pancake mix,” Akaashi muttered, wrinkling his nose.

“Are you saying that’s a bad thing? I _like_ how it smells.”

“It smells terrible,” he disagreed, keeping his eyes trained on the plate of cooling pancakes. “And it’s all over your clothes.” Akaashi didn’t need to look over to know that Kuroo was already grinning again.

Tsukishima set a plate stacked with the pancakes down on the counter and opened the cupboard to pull out another stack of plates. Bokuto placed forks on the table and Kuroo leaned from his seat to grab cups from the cupboard next to them. Akaashi wondered if that system worked in the same way that they fit together like a puzzle when they watched movies. They’d certainly never _discussed_ such a smooth system for setting the table—at least, not while Akaashi was around. Was that another easy thing to do? Fitting like a puzzle had seemed impossible, and yet it had been easy. Was it the same with their easy conversations and their laid-back playfulness?

Akaashi caught Kuroo’s eyes and the other grinned. “You’re thinking too loudly.”

Kuroo had really nice eyes, too. Akaashi almost felt disappointed when their eye contact broke off. Kuroo went back to rummaging through the fridge for the syrup. They’d be happy, last night, when he’d agreed and when they’d come home. He’d made them happy, and some part of him knew that it wouldn’t be too hard to continue making them happy. They didn’t ask a whole lot, anyway. It would be easy to keep making them happy, saying yes to little things and joining their conversations.

Akaashi wasn’t sure that he’d be able to do that, though. It sounded _hard._ Akaashi watched Bokuto pluck the syrup from Kuroo’s hands to pour an unhealthy amount of it on his pancakes. Tsukishima rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment.

“We’re out of like, everything, if anyone wants to go grocery shopping with me later.” Kuroo said, through a mouthful of pancake.

“ _Man,_ ” Bokuto’s pancakes were pretty much soup with the amount of syrup that he’d put on them. “I’ve got class all day today. And only boring ones, too! How uncool is that?”

“I’m taking my make-up classes today,” Tsukishima ignored Bokuto’s whining. Kuroo groaned, seeming to accept his fate of having to go shopping alone. Akaashi probably would have died if he had to do that. But—would he even be very good company? Well, Kuroo wouldn’t _complain,_ if he said yes. But that posed another problem, because if he kept saying yes to things he hadn’t said yes to before, would they expect him to keep saying yes?

But Akaashi _wanted_ to say yes now. Everything that had sounded nerve-wracking before sounded…only slightly worrisome to Akaashi now. “I don’t have anything,” he mumbled, taking a bite so that he’d have something to do with his hands. “I can go, if you want.”

He braced himself for the over-enthusiastic answer that would make it impossible to say no next time. Instead, Kuroo just picked his face up from the table and nodded. “Good, because the sample lady always tries to talk to me for hours when I’m by myself there.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was a cold day out and the streets were practically empty. It hadn’t _looked_ cold out—there wasn’t even any snow. Akaashi hadn’t bothered with anything more than a coat, and he was definitely regretting that now. The store wasn’t too far away, though, so he tried to focus on Kuroo’s story rather than the cold. So Kuroo talked, using his hands as he did so, and Akaashi did his best not to be distracted by the biting cold and the way that the wind blew Kuroo’s hair right into his face.

“—but Kei wasn’t even _sympathetic_ , the jerk! So—,” Kuroo paused when he noticed Akaashi had stopped walking beside him, quirking an eyebrow up.

“Kei,” Akaashi mumbled, testing the word out on his tongue. His eyes widened and he peered at Kuroo remorsefully. “You call each other by your given names and I’ve never even _asked_ about yours…”

Kuroo blinked, watching Akaashi. He smiled, though, and started walking again like they’d never stopped. Akaashi trudged after him. “Well, I’ve never asked about yours, either, so that’s fine! It’s Tetsurou, though, mine.”

“Keiji,” Akaashi studied the ground, chewing on his lip.

“There, that’s all fine now,” Kuroo’s voice was decisive. “Stop worrying over that, it’s just a little thing.”

“ _No,_ ” Akaashi protested, shaking his head. “It’s just…we never even really… _met_? Properly, at least. So I don’t know anything I should know about you, and I should…”

“Ah. Well, that’s not a hard problem to fix, either.” Kuroo stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk, and Akaashi was glad there wasn’t more than a couple people that had to walk around them. He stared at Kuroo, waiting for him to continue walking.

Kuroo stayed where he was, though, holding out his hand like he was waiting for Akaashi to accept it. When Akaashi did, they shook formally and Akaashi quipped up and eyebrow when he realized what Kuroo was doing.

“My name is Kuroo Tetsurou. It’s nice to meet you,” Kuroo didn’t release Akaashi’s hand, continuing to hold it. Akaashi had half a mind to let go.

But he didn’t really want to let go. And while part of his mind was yelling at him to stop being weird in the middle of the sidewalk, because part of his mind cared what everyone else thought, the other part of his mind found this…amusing? Endearing? Sweet? Whatever the emotion was, it made Akaashi’s mouth twitch up into a small smile. He continued holding Kuroo’s hand in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Akaashi Keiji. It’s nice to meet you, too.” Akaashi liked the way that Kuroo’s eyes sparkled when he smiled. He continued, hesitantly. “Would you mind telling me a little bit about yourself, Kuroo-san?”

Kuroo hummed, still grinning. “Well, I’m a psychology major, for one thing.” Which Akaashi had known, of course, but that was the fun of this. “I give people tattoos for a living, and sometimes take them off, I can play the piano and my favorite food is grilled is mackerel pike. What about you, Akaashi-san?”

Akaashi tried not to think when he replied. “I’m getting a degree in literature, and my favorite class is English Literature. I can’t play any instruments and my favorite food is nanohana no karashiae… I guess.”

“Oi, Akaashi-san? Would you do me the _honor_ of going grocery shopping with me? I know we just met and this is a little bit sudden, but I think I like you.” Kuroo’s eyebrows wiggled and Akaashi felt his face heat up, even though it was silly.

“Yeah,” Akaashi mumbled. “Okay.” Their hands dropped down but didn’t separate. Kuroo’s hand loosened like he was going to let go; Akaashi tightened the hold. Akaashi made a point of not looking over at Kuroo, who he knew was smiling.

Half of his brain was still loudly protested, telling him not to walk into a busy _store_ holding hands with a _boy,_ because that was _weird,_ having a same-gendered soulmate. People would look at him and think _weird_ or _they’re not really soulmates_ or they’d think something else, bitter and rude.

But Akaashi didn’t really want to listen to that half of his head when he was having a good time and it was nice holding Kuroo’s hand.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Damn, I forgot to get bread,” Kuroo mumbled, putting a carton of eggs in the fridge.

“When do we use bread?” Akaashi asked, feeling nerves jumble in his stomach at the slip-up of ‘we’ instead of ‘you’, because _Akaashi_ didn’t live there.

Kuroo didn’t even seem to notice, humming in agreement. “Fair enough. But it was probably on the list for a reason, and toast is easy to make in the morning.”

“You’re going to walk all the way back for bread?”

“Mm, no. There’s a new drink at the coffee shop we showed you, though, and there’s a shop on the way there that has bread that’ll work.” Kuroo paused, finishing putting the groceries away. “Are you spending the night here tonight? You don’t have to, obviously. But you’re usually home around five and that’s in a little while. We’d probably have time to get coffee before then if you wanna be sweet and come with?”

Akaashi paused, pretending to be immersed in the task of taking a prolonged drink of water. He _could_ spend the night here, today. It had been a good day, without too many nerves or too much thinking. Those didn’t happen a lot. But…if he spent two nights with them in a row _and_ did things with them, would he be setting a standard for himself that he couldn’t keep up with?

And more importantly, would he have to order for himself at the coffee shop?

“I have homework,” Akaashi muttered, mulling it over. “I’d need my laptop…”

“If that’s a yes, we can grab it on the way home.”

“That’s a yes.” Akaashi stood up to put his glass in the sink, eyes trained on metal. A hand touched his arm for a brief second before the warmth disappeared. He glanced back to see Kuroo watching him with a more serious face than before.

“Oi,” Kuroo said, voice just as unusually serious. “Just remember that you’re allowed to say no when we ask things, alright? We wouldn’t ask if we didn’t mean it, and we want you to answer honestly. You don’t have to say yes to spending the night or going places if you don’t want to or if it’s not the day for that kind of thing. I’m not saying you _are_ saying yes out of obligation, I’m just saying… we care about you, too, alright? And that means we want what you want. If you don’t want to be in a relationship, that’s fine. If you do, that’s fine, too. If you don’t want to sit on a couch with us while we watch movies, then sit wherever you’re comfortable. We honestly don’t mind as long as you’re doing whatever’s going to make _you_ the most comfortable with all of this.”

Akaashi blinked. “I…”

Kuroo’s grin was back on his face and he stuffed his hands in his pockets again. “I’m a psychology major,” he reminded Akaashi. “I study emotions and thoughts. Anyway, I meant it. It’s probably a conversation that we should all have together, for all of us. About everyone and what they want, I mean. That would be good for a healthy relationship—whether it’s a literal relationship or not. Whenever everyone’s comfortable, I guess.” He grabbed his keys, stuffing them in his pocket. “Well—are you ready to go back out?”

Akaashi nodded, not trusting himself to reply with the right words. Whatever he would have said back wouldn’t have been the right answer, anyway. It was a safer bet to just keep silent. He opened the door, still pretending not to be searching for an answer. A scarf wrapped around his neck and Akaashi blinked, reaching up and turning around to raise an eyebrow at Kuroo, who was wrapping his own scarf around his neck once again.

“You looked cold earlier,” Kuroo grinned, turning to walk down the hall to the elevator. Akaashi fixed the scarf, hiding hid his (probably red) face in it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~

It took Akaashi exactly one trip to a store to buy bread and a cup of coffee to realize that he’d never had _anyone_ over to his apartment.

It was funny that the day had been the first day in months where he hadn’t felt anxious, because it had quickly turned _terrifying._ Getting coffee had been fine—Kuroo had done the same thing as before, asking what Akaashi wanted and ordering for him as if it wasn’t a big deal at all. But the little ball of anxiety had quickly turned into a _massive snowball of fear,_ because he’d never had anyone over there. It wasn’t anything at all—it wasn’t anything impressive, it wasn’t anything unimpressive. It was just an apartment. Pale, undecorated walls, drab colors and small, Akaashi could care less what it looked like.

It was almost hard to stop his hand’s shaking when he unlocked the door and opened it like it wasn’t a big deal, though. It probably wasn’t. Kuroo didn’t seemed fazed, leaning against the closed door and waiting for Akaashi to grab his laptop.

It felt almost weird, coming back here. Their apartment was warm and spacious, colorful and decorated and bursting with personality. It was the opposite of Akaashi’s, almost, because his was a pale gray and it was always too cold.

Akaashi didn’t bother taking his shoes off, walking into his room and finding his laptop bag. He slung it over his shoulder, going back out to where Kuroo was still leaning against the door. It didn’t feel as worrisome, now that his soulmate was in his apartment.

His soulmate was in his apartment. Kuroo wasn’t really what Akaashi had pictured when he’d thought about the whole ‘soulmate’ deal; Akaashi wasn’t complaining. Akaashi watched him a moment longer, noting how his head almost reached the top of the doorframe. God, he was tall. Another tiny smile twitched onto his lips and he tugged the scarf up further to hide it.

“Hmm?” Kuroo watched him with a tilted head.

“Nothing,” Akaashi mumbled, nudging him out of the way of the door. “You’re just tall.”

“And you’re just short.”

“Shut up.”

“Really short.”

“ _Shut up._ ”

“You’re like… shorter than Kenma.”

“Who?”

“A friend. He’s _short,_ but he’s still taller than you.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“ _Tetsurou._ ”

[----------------//////////-----------------]

 

 

The conversation ended up happening sooner rather than later. They’d made Western food for dinner that night, because Bokuto had claimed it looked fun and because Kuroo had roped Tsukishima and Akaashi into helping, and Akaashi had honestly been expecting just another movie night where he’d never even remember what the movie was about.

They didn’t bother pretending to watch a movie  for once. Apparently it was something they’d all been thinking about, because the minute Bokuto hesitantly brought it up Tsukishima was already agreeing that they needed to talk about it.

Akaashi used his best talent: pretending to do something else in order to get out being noticed.

He sat on one of the barstools, pretending to be absorbed in the task of picking at a chip in the counter.

“’Kaashi,” Kuroo prompted gently. Akaashi dropped his hands into his lap, twisting the barstool back and forth absentmindedly.

Nothing bad could happen if he just didn’t say anything.

He joined them at the kitchen table. It almost felt strange. They’d never all sat at the table at the same time.

When they’d started talking, Akaashi hadn’t noticed. It occurred to him that he was a little bit of an absent-minded mess of a soulmate. Of a person, honestly.

There was a chip in the wood, too. They talked. He didn’t. They talked about little things, like given names and the trip next week. Akaashi said as little as possible. _Call me whatever you want, I don’t care about sleeping arrangements—it sounds like I don’t care about any of this at all. Do I not care? Or do I care too much?_

“What is this?” Kuroo asked, abruptly. “A relationship? Friendship? Obligation?”

“Not obligation,” Tsukishima interjects, voice flat at the idea.

“Not obligation,” Bokuto agreed, kicked back in his chair. “I dunno, I’d be fine with a relationship if that’s what everyone wanted.”

“I’ve already said I’d be okay with that,” Tsukishima replied. _Kei,_ Akaashi thought.

Kuroo’s hummed noise of agreement made Akaashi draw in a deep breath. Right. Now they were all looking at him, out of the corners of their eyes. Because it was his turn to say something now.

“You’re allowed to say no,” Kuroo reminded him. “You’re allowed to say yes, too. Or even not yet. Just…say what you want, right?”

“Then…” Akaashi ran his fingers over the chip in the table, purposefully not looking at any of them. “…not yet...if that’s alright…” he paused, knowing that if he looked up he’d be risking seeing something other than a happy emotion in their eyes. “I’m not saying no. I just…need to think a little more on this. I need to know for sure. I never…thought I wanted a soulmate? But now I think maybe I do. But I want you all to be in a relationship, if that’s what you want to do. A real one.”

“Okay.” Bokuto’s agreement is easy. Akaashi could have gone numb with relief.

“Alright,” Kuroo’s fingers are drumming on the table. “Next, then, I guess, would be something else completely. We’re serious about this. Relationship or not,” that was supposed to mean ‘this means Akaashi, too’. “We’re all sticking together. And that means knowing important things, right?” Tsukishima makes a noise prompting him to continue. “Like allergies,” Kuroo continued.

“Oh,” Tsukki’s feet brushed Akaashi’s when he leaned back in his own chair. “I’m lactose intolerant.” His voice is the same as always, something close to emotionless or uninvolved in the conversation.

The table’s silent for a stretch of time. Nobody says anything, and that might have been a cue to just move on to the next subject. Something heavy hung over the table, though, like everyone knew there was more to be said on the subject.

“I’m bipolar,” Bokuto said at last. Akaashi’s eyes trailed up in time to see him shrug, looking unfazed and uncomfortable at the same time. “I take medication for it. It’s not a big deal.”

“Alright.” Kuroo nods, eyes flicking over to Akaashi, who drew in a long breath. Maybe that was Kuroo’s way of doing his psychology thing and doing the best thing for Bokuto in that moment, which was dismissing the idea and not making a big deal out of it (though Akaashi knew they’d probably talk about that someday in the future). There wasn’t anything for him to say, right? Did they want him to list off his list of three thousand problems? He didn’t _know_ what was a problem.

“Alright,” he says again. “I just…have a question, I guess.” Akaashi knew he was talking to him now. Their eyes were locked, and Akaashi really wished he could admire Kuroo’s eyes right now. “Is it social anxiety? Or an anxiety disorder in general?” Akaashi swallowed, fingers picking at the chip in the table again. Kuroo made another humming noise, like he’s thinking, and Akaashi wondered how he’d figured out what hum meant what. “It might be nothing. Some people are just uncomfortable around crowds and attention. I was just wondering.”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi mumbled, dropping his eyes and breaking their eye contact. “I never really…wanted to know.” Kuroo’s still watching him, they all probably are, but he can feel Kuroo’s eyes on him the most. “People make me nervous,” he continued, pushing the words out before he could back out. “Everything does. Everything comes to people so easily, but I never know what to say or what to do. I don’t know what’s a big deal and what’s not. Everything’s a big deal. I dunno,” he mumbled again. “You’re the psychologist. I don’t know if it’s serious.”

“I’m not quite a psychologist,” Kuroo’s voice is lightly amused before it dips back down into seriousness. “But it seems like it might be something that…you’d benefit from seeing a psychologist about? It might just be nerves, but it doesn’t sound like it’s just a little bit of nervousness.”

“No.” Akaashi wanted the subject to change again. “It’s not. It’s like forgetting how to breathe over every goddamn thing and it’s stupid. Everyone else can order a cup of coffee. It’s probably just me overreacting.” The conversation was taking hours. It had been days since they sat down here. Eons and eons and millions of years had passed and this conversation was never going to end.

“That’s what Koutarou used to say,” Tsukishima’s voice is the exact same as before, but it also makes Akaashi realize that they’re _all_ paying attention to what he’s saying right now. “But it wasn’t. I don’t know a lot about what either of you are talking about, but I know enough to be able to agree with Kuroo.”

_Koutarou,_ Akaashi ran the word through his head, tucking it away. They tossed their names around so carefully, and they were so close that there was something soft and casual about the way that they did it. It was hard to pay attention to everything else that they were saying.

Bokuto made an enthusiastic noise of agreement. “Yeah! It wasn’t _fun,_ but it helped. Anyway, Kuroo’s smart.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Akaashi cut them all off. “I never said I wouldn’t listen. Just…not yet. Can we talk about something else?”

A beat of silence passes around the table before Bokuto’s enthusiastic, “ _cats!_ ” passes around the table, countered by a flat, “absolutely not,” from Tsukishima.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The couch spent another long night alone. Akaashi opted for worming his way into the middle of Bokuto’s soft bed with them again. They’d all fallen asleep in minutes, tired out by midnight from classes and walking places. Akaashi wasn’t sure how they did that, either. It was going to be impossible to fall asleep here and now. He was going to be awake for the rest of the night at this rate.

He was _problematic._ And everything in his life seemed to revolve around the fact that he was _problematic._ They were good people, and Akaashi was smitten, whether he was willing to admit that or not.

Some part of him wanted to dive wholeheartedly into the fray. He wanted to hold their hands and look at them and think _boyfriends_ and he wanted to look them in their pretty, pretty eyes and use their given names. He wanted to be stuck with them forever. It sounded _terrifying,_ but it sounded electrifying at the same time.

Bokuto snored softly when he slept, but it was almost cute.

“Akaashi?” A tired voice mumbled. It wasn’t Tsukishima, because Tsukishima’s face was pressed into a pillow. Ah. He’d woken Kuroo up.

It occurred to Akaashi that he’d spent a day with Tsukishima and he’d spent a day with Kuroo, but he had yet to spend a day with Bokuto since all of this happened.

“Sorry,” Akaashi mumbled. When Kuroo made a slightly confused noise he explained shortly, “I woke you up.”

“Huh? Ah…no, I don’t think it was you. I didn’t even know you were awake until a couple seconds ago.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Mmm, the whole time?” Akaashi was silent for a minute before laughing softly. When his eyes shifted up to meet Kuroo’s, Kuroo’s eyes were sparkling happily. “That was cute. Your laugh is really cute. You should do that more.”

“Maybe,” Akaashi agreed softly. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“I never can,” Kuroo huffed, his face twisting into some sort of tired emotion before a little smile played its way back onto his face.

“Insomnia?” Akaashi ventured, wondering if it was just because of the crowded, warm bed and he was letting his mind wander too far.

 “Insomnia,” Kuroo agreed. “A bitch, but it got me into psycology and everything, so…not the worst thing that could ever have happened.”

Akaashi frowned slightly, listening to the clock tick loudly from the living room. “Should’ve said earlier, when you were making all of us talk about things like that…”

“I didn’t say it earlier because it’s hard to say things like that—proud of you and Bo, by the way—and because I don’t think it really counts as a _problem._ ”

Akaashi let the silence stretch on a while longer. “I think…it probably does.” He let another tired smile make its way onto his lips. “This is a stupid thing to be happy over, but I guessed that makes all of us problematic. Is that a dumb thing to be happy over? Or like…sadistic…?”

“No, I think it makes it a little less lonely.” Kuroo’s voice was just as tired as Akaashi’s, and Akaashi’s mind ventured to the inane amount of trips to the coffee shop down the block.

Did it make it less lonely, knowing that they all had problems, too? Maybe. As far as Akaashi had seen, they didn’t let their problems get the better of them. He hadn’t even _known_ there was anything wrong before today…

“How do you all handle it?” Akaashi mumbled, shifting to press his face into the pillows. “I didn’t think there _could_ have been…anything wrong…before today.”

Kuroo hummed tiredly. Akaashi was beginning to like the sound of his soft little hums. “I drink coffee. Lots of it. Bo takes medicine, he said. Lithium is usually what they give to treat bipolar, but it depends on what kind of bipolar he has. Bipolar II is the most common, and seems like it would probably fit him the best… at least, if he’s got it this under control. And I mean, Tsukishima probably just stays away from milk.” Akaashi didn’t know what was funny about that, but they both giggled anyway. Being tired felt like being drunk. “What about you?” Kuroo asked after a long silence. “How do you handle yours?”

“I don’t,” Akaashi admitted. “I just stay inside and watch Jurassic Park.”

“Don’t get Tsukki started on Jurassic Park.”

“I know.”

The silence stretched on longer that time, and Akaashi wondered what you were supposed to do in a situation like this. ‘Go to bed, you’ll feel better in the morning,’ wasn’t something that could possibly happen. Akaashi didn’t have any _idea_ what you were supposed to say or do in this kind of a moment. But the pressing, suffocating anxiety wasn’t there, and it was just a dull irritation that he couldn’t help.

Akaashi rolled over to face Kuroo. “C’mere?” Kuroo’s smirk and suggestive eye wiggle were ruined by the way his eyes lit up and made it obvious that he really was pleased.

Akaashi didn’t have any clue what he was doing. He’d never _cuddled_ before—the closest thing he’d ever done was sitting on the couch with Tsukishima, who’d taken charge of the whole matter. Akaashi figured it couldn’t be too different than forgetting to over-think things while talking to them, though. It stopped being hard when you just stopped thinking about it, right…?

He tried to stop thinking about it, shifting to drape one arm over Kuroo when he wiggled over, letting his other hand end up messing with his soulmate’s matted bedhead.

The silence continued stretching on, and it felt longer than the entire night. “Kuroo, I think I might be changing my mind.”

“Mm….I think that’s a good thing.”

The silence stretched on for another seven nights.

“Akaashi, you’re really warm.” The silence lasted three more nights, and then everything was funny. It was funny that it was two in the morning and they’d spent hours pretending to sleep in the silent company of the other, and it was funny that they were curled up together right now, and everything was funny. Akaashi buried his face in a pillow when Kuroo laughed, a loud , genuine laugh.

“Go back to bed!” A groggy just-woken-up voice muttered from next to them, and the loud laugh that had woken Tsukishima up in the first place doubled, because they’d never been asleep at all.

Everything was funnier with someone else when it was two in the morning, apparently.

Kuroo stopped giggling completely, eventually, and they settled back into the eon-long silence. Kuroo’s hair was soft and thick, untangling easily when Akaashi’s fingers ran through it. The bed felt bigger than it should have with four people in it, but that was really okay. At some point Tsukishima’s breathing evened back out and Akaashi’s eyes felt heavy enough to stay shut when he closed them, so he closed them and kept running his fingers through Kuroo’s hair.

Whenever it was that he fell asleep, he wasn’t too sure. When he’d woken up, though, Kuroo had been asleep and still tucked under Akaashi’s arm. It was still a little funny, because Kuroo was so much taller and yet he fit just right under Akaashi’s arm. Bokuto and Tsukishima were already awake and had disappeared off someplace, maybe to the kitchen or out someplace for work or class (because Akaashi still had yet to memorize all of their constantly-switching schedules).

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You have to pack now or you’re going to forget,” Tsukishima flicked Bokuto’s head, not bothering to glance up at him.

Bokuto pretended to scoff, draping himself over Tsukishima’s lap, though he was still being ignored. “When have I ever forgotten to pack?”

“Every. Single. Year.” Tsukishima’s gaze flicked away from the television for a brief second when Kuroo started cackling. Akaashi had decided that as nice as it was being _a part_ of their messy cuddling and squabbles, it was nice watching it from a distance without having to be involved, too.

“Not true! And anyways, who packs this early? We’ve still got three days.”

“I’ve been packed for two days. Kuroo and Akaashi are probably already packed.”

“Oh—are we ganging up on him? Well, he’s right. We’ve already packed, right, ‘Kaashi?” Kuroo’s foot nudged Akaashi’s back.

Akaashi shrugged. “I haven’t even started packing yet.”

Kuroo groaned, his comment pertaining to betrayal overridden by Tsukishima’s, “seriously? You’re _both_ terrible.”

Akaashi went back to ignoring them, fighting the urge to snap his laptop closed and fake being sick for the rest of the week until they left, if it meant he didn’t have to finish his dumb essay. He was pretty sure he was doing the entire assignment wrong, anyway.

He’d been staring at a blank screen for at least thirty minutes. There was nothing to write, not without research, but there was nothing to research because the Wi-Fi wouldn’t work that day. And if it were to work, by some miracle, Akaashi didn’t _want_ to do it.

He was sure that if he just gave up and watched the movie with the rest of them he’d be able to catch up with the plot of the whole thing enough to watch the rest of it. Still…

Akaashi pulled up a new tab, making one last attempt at research.

Chewing on his lip while he waited for the page to load, he fought the urge to groan when his trackpad stopped working. Probably because the laptop was too hot, and probably because the laptop was an old piece of shit. The laptop was probably hot because he’d been staring at a blank screen for nearly forty minutes, by then. There were notes in his _bag,_ but his bag was in Kuroo’s room (which was given that name by default, because it wasn’t like Kuroo was ever in there, and it was only used for when somebody needed to study, because it was the only quiet place in the apartment), but Kuroo’s room was at the very end of the hallway, and that was entirely too far away.

Akaashi was going to scream if he spent another minute on this. He really, really was. Why was he even _going_ to college? He could drop out. He could be a stripper.

“How’s it going, Akaashi?”

Akaashi stopped glaring daggers at his laptop to allow his eyes to flick up to Bokuto, who was apparently amused by Akaashi’s struggle. “Great,” Akaashi replied, switching back to his blank document when the research didn’t load.

He tuned out the TV and the sappy confessions happening on the screen and flipped to another tab, trying a different browser. The internet decided to comply, and loaded the website.

It shouldn’t have been difficult. Really, writing 20,000 words about _some_ fictional story would be easy. Real people, fake places. Fake people, real places. Fake people, fake places. All that mattered was that something was _fake,_ and that shouldn’t be hard.

There was millions of things to write about, and Akaashi couldn’t think of a single thing. There was nothing in an infinity of nothings that would be good enough to write about. He was going to fail the class and his only option would be to work as a stripper without a college degree.

Akaashi had half a mind to use Bokuto’s tactic and whine to the three boys sitting on the couch until he’d pestered them into supplying him with an idea. Really, they must have an idea or two about some sort of fictional reality, when their whole relationship felt like a drama in a book.

Ah.

Ah.

That…that was an idea. How impossibly fictional was this whole reality? Some loser who never even wanted a soulmate—some loser who _took off their tattoo_ —ended up with _three_ soulmates. It was a mess, it was a real-life sitcom, it was the wickedest irony, and best of all, it was the perfect fiction.

Akaashi closed the research tab. The cursor blinked at him on the blank page and Akaashi’s fingers hovered hesitantly over the keyboard.

There was nothing to lose. Akaashi started typing.

By the time the word count blinked up to 6,000, the movie had been over for at least twenty minutes and the conversation on the couch was something that may have been important. Akaashi really didn’t know, and didn’t care, because this was an idea, and it was going to slip away if he set it down for a single, infinitesimal second.

7,000, by the time they’d all clambered up off of the couch. 8,000, by the time that Tsukki had returned from wherever he’d left to (without Akaashi noticing he’d left in the first place) and by the time the living room felt quiet with all of the others in one room or another doing one thing or another.

The cursor blinked at him again, not moving anymore. The room was silent without the keyboard tacking noisily under his fingers.

Why had he chosen literature? He’d enjoyed poetry, he’d enjoyed reading and writing, but what on Earth had made him choose literature?

The cursor continued blinking, stuck on 8,000 after…somewhere nearing four hours.

The room to a door opened and footsteps padded softly on the tile behind him.

“What does a lecture hall smell like?” Akaashi asked, not caring who it was that had come into the kitchen for a drink.

“What?” The sink shut off and they, Bokuto, set his glass down with a soft _chink._

“The smell. It’s…brown.”

“It _smells_ brown?”

Akaashi shrugged, watching the curser blink in and out of existence. “Yes. But how do you describe brown? It’s not pale. It’s not bold.”

“Drab?” Bokuto suggested, sounding unsure. “Stuffy? Warm? They always smell like my grandma’s house…she never opens the windows.”

“Like nobody ever opens the windows,” Akaashi agreed, going back to typing.

If Akaashi never wanted a soulmate, if Akaashi never wanted to have a major in literature, if he never wanted to meet a boy in English Literature, if he never wanted to fall in love, if Akaashi never wanted to write a single word and if he never wanted a single thing that he’d gotten in life, the boy in the story couldn’t quite decide what he’d wanted in the first place. How could he decide if he was content with what he’d gotten, when he didn’t know what he hadn’t wanted?

He was bold, the boy in the story. He spoke and he did and he was never afraid. He was fearless, of everything but the one thing that he didn’t get to get rid of. _Terrified, petrified, paralyzed with a fear of falling in love…and he gets three._

The words are filled with a bitter truth, painted with something that Akaashi knows is anything but true, with the bold way that he speaks. Akaashi didn’t recognize a single one of the boy’s soulmates. But it was there, the truth of who all those people were shaped to be and the story that it was supposed to be.

But it couldn’t possibly have an ending. Not until Akaashi himself knew how it was supposed to end, or how he _wanted_ it to end. Did he want to stay with all of them? Did he want to leave, and go off on his own? Did he never figure it out, bouncing between two worlds? There wasn’t any fear or anxiety on a page. _Anything, everything_ that needed to be said could be said on a piece of paper.

If Akaashi needed a reason to be a literature major, that was it, he guessed.

The cursor was back to blinking angrily, demanding 2,000 more words and an ending. There was nothing. There was nothing he was afraid to say, because there was nothing that Akaashi wanted to say at all.

A hand tapped his shoulder. Akaashi blinked up at Bokuto, who took the chance to snap Akaashi’s laptop shut.

“It’s seven at night,” Bokuto informed him. “We’re going out to eat.”

“Okay,” Akaashi replied.

“You’re coming, too.” There wasn’t a choice offered, but Akaashi couldn’t decide if he wanted one

“Okay,” Akaashi said again, reluctance seeping into his answer. Bokuto grinned, placing Akaashi’s laptop on the coffee table and offering him a hand. They stood back up and Akaashi watched him disappear again for a brief minute.

He returned with Kuroo, who tossed Akaashi a coat and gloves before pulling on his own. There were pros and cons to the winter clothing. Less face to see, but it was kind of really cute to see them wrapped up. Akaashi spared one last glance at his laptop, feeling Bokuto tug him along with them.

It was colder out that night than it was before, and it made Akaashi’s ears hurt. He pretended not to hear their ‘I’ll help warm you up~’ jokes, pretending not to be a part of the conversation. They bickered most of the way there, things like _that’s definitely illegal, you can’t cook to save your life,_ and _okay but is that really a rude thing to do?_

They walked the same way that Akaashi walked to get to English Literature and the sole art class that he had signed up for to ‘try new things’. It was the same way that he’d walked the first time that he’d spoken to Bokuto.

_What would have happened if Bokuto had been smart enough to just grab a map of the campus…?What would have happened if I’d just moved away to sit somewhere else when he’d started talking to me?_

A bird pecked at the frozen ground. Had the bird been too stupid to fly somewhere else for winter? Or was he meant to stay for the chilly season?

Akaashi glanced at Bokuto, who had moved on to talk about how he didn’t like the new professor for his graphic design class and how he didn’t like the assignments of the class, either.

“Why are you taking the class, then?” Tsukishima’s face and voice stayed the same, like nothing fazed him. Akaashi wondered if he just wasn’t looking close enough. Kuroo’s hums didn’t seem very different at all, when they’d first met.

“Because I like _graphic design,_ ” Bokuto whined, his scarf tucked up over his mouth and the single strand of hair that never complied falling down into his face, just by his ear. Akaashi was adamant that when he took Bokuto’s hand with his own, it wasn’t because he found the other cute. It was because his hand was _damn cold_ and Bokuto’s hands looked warm and gloved. Bokuto’s voice didn’t even falter in his rapid explanation of why he was taking graphic design, despite none of them having pried further.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was a busy restaurant, but it was not loud in the way that usually made Akaashi leave without a second thought. Maybe it was because he was in the middle of a group of people who made him want to stay, or maybe it was because it was noisy in the way that made it seem fun rather than stifling.

They were sitting by a window, too, and Akaashi knew that was probably intentional. He probably, had they sat here a month ago, would have thought something that would have made anxiety shoot up his throat and stifle his lungs, something like _they’re having to go out of their way for you_ , as if it were a bad thing. His head was quiet for now, though, and Akaashi was pretty grateful for that. It meant he could watch Kuroo get scolded by Tsukishima for putting his feet on the table, and he could watch Bokuto open a packet of jam on the table to ‘sample,’ which made Tsukishima revoke his privileges. _Tsukki’s like a mom,_ Akaashi thought, tracing his thumb along the edge of the table.

Kuroo laughed next to him and Akaashi knew he must have said it rather than thought it.

The menus were fancy, and Akaashi didn’t even bother with trying to read through them. He decided to trust Bokuto’s assurance that they’d all been there before and they’d tell him what was good. _Surprise me_ , Akaashi almost said. He felt lazy enough to, actually, but refrained from doing so in order to avoid a wave of innuendos.

Bokuto and Tsukishima, who’d been dating for almost two years before they’d even met Kuroo and Akaashi, sat together across from them. Was their group split off into pairs? Kuroo and Akaashi had met before either of them met Bokuto and Tsukishima—who had seemed content enough on their own, actually. Was it too messy with four people? Too messy to keep that calm, put-together manner that the relationship had had with two?

“Oi, Bo, dance with me,” Kuroo extended his hand across the table. Tsukishima’s eyes rolled as Bokuto accepted the hand.

“We just _sat down--_ ,” Tsukishima started, giving up halfway through his sentence. He stood to let Bokuto through, and the pair bounded down the room like kids. _Childish,_ Akaashi thought.

Akaashi watched them stop when they reached the space cleared of chairs for the two or three pairs of people dancing already. When they danced, it wasn’t slow or organized at all, but it worked out well enough. Bokuto was grinning when he placed his hand in Kuroo’s, and placed his other hand on Kuroo’s shoulder. He seemed gleeful to be playing the girl’s role.

Their steps were messy, unsynchronized, but they made it work well enough that if you hadn’t been paying attention you may have thought it was well put-together.

Akaashi opened his mouth to comment at the same time that a hand appeared in front of his face. His eyes flitted up to meet Tsukishima’s.

“You want me to--?”

“To dance, yes.” Tsukishima agreed, and a tiny smiled played out on his face. “Because I’m not letting those losers have all the fun.”

Akaashi accepted the hand.

Tsukishima’s hand was cold, almost, and it was definitely bigger than Akaashi’s. Akaashi felt his face flush when he realized that they were going to walk all that way holding hands, then. He could _let go,_ of course, but…

Holding hands was fine with Akaashi.

They walked down the rows of tables, and the walk that had taken Bokuto and Kuroo a minute took Akaashi and Tsukishima twelve thousand years. But they reached the floor, eventually, and Akaashi didn’t bother even debating it before placing his hand on Tsukishima’s shoulder. His soulmate raised an eyebrow, looking only _slightly_ amused.

“You’re taller,” Akaashi muttered, feeling his face flush hotter. “It wouldn’t make sense to do it the other way around.”

“Of course,” Tsukishima’s agreement felt more like mockery than surrender. The song was _not_ a slow dance song, but it would have been bothersome to try and do whatever it was that Bokuto and Kuroo were doing.

So he tuned them both out and concentrated on not stepping on Tsukishima’s feet. Tsukki, who seemed to know what he was doing, didn’t have half as much trouble with the careful rhythm that they’d developed.

Akaashi could hear Bokuto laugh from where they were, and the sound made a smile twitch onto his lips. When Tsukishima’s eyebrow twitched up, he mumbled, “they’re loud.”

Tsukki snorted, as if to say _you’re just now realizing that?_

Akaashi was pretty sure he liked the silence that settled over the group at times. Even if it was far from quiet here, they themselves were quiet. It wasn’t _rare,_ but it was comfortable. It made it easier to think. And, in turn, it became easier to wonder.

“How did you fall in love with Bokuto?” Akaashi wondered out loud, flicking his eyes up to watch the surprise on Tsukishima’s face. He was quiet for a couple of minutes, looking like he was thinking.

When he finally replies, it sounds like he’s still thinking through his answer while he says it. “Slowly? Without realizing it, at least. I thought he was pesky at first; he was always loud and energetic, acting like he got along with everyone. But it didn’t take long to figure out that was because he _does_ get along with everyone. And I guess that meant me, too. He’s helpful, at least, always quiets down when you ask him to…eventually. And I was rooming with him, and I really didn’t want to hate the person I was going to be living with for potential years. Except when you get to know him, and you really get to _know_ him, I can’t figure out how everyone doesn’t fall in love with him. I’m not surprised he’s already managed to have three people fall in love with him.”

“And you,” Akaashi added, because it felt like it needed to be said. “I think…it would be impossible not to fall in love with you, either.”

“Oh?”

“Well, yeah,” Akaashi could feel his flushing. “You’re…you. Shut up!” Tsukishima stifled his laugh. “You’re good with people,” he tried again. “Even if you act like you’re terrible with them. Like when we met for the first time…”

“I completely ignored you,” Tsukishima moved his foot back before Akaashi could step on it.

“Sorry,” he made an attempt at copying the other’s movements, failing miserably. “You’re too _tall._ But, yes, exactly.” Akaashi shrugged. “I didn’t want to be noticed, so…”

Tsukishima hummed. “Maybe I ignore everyone. I just happened to tolerate you.”

“Uh-huh, and you tolerated Bokuto and Kuroo of all people. What a saint.”

“You’re dancing out of rhythm.”

“You’re avoiding my comment. It’s hardly something to be _ashamed of._ ”

“Well, when you meet someone and know that you’re destined to be with them, it’s hard to not at least try. And trying turned out to work in my favor.”

Akaashi fell quiet, listening to the song end and change to something more appropriate for their rhythmic slow dance. He heard Bokuto and Kuroo laughing, no doubt continuing on with their own dancing regardless of the switch.  

“Then why’d you try with me?  You didn’t have any reason to, my mark isn’t on your arm. We’re not even technically—,”

“Yes it is.”

Akaashi wished he could see more than just Tsukishima’s chest. He’d need stilts to see the other’s face, though, with the height difference. Well, maybe not stilts, but a step-stool at the very least.

He paused in his danced, not dropping his arms. “Except, it’s not.  Because I got mine removed. Because…”

“Please, there’s billions of people in the world, do you really think fate cares if some idiot gets the ink taken out? It showed up a little while after Kuroo’s did.”

Akaashi frowned, stepping back and moving his hands to tug up his soulmate’s sleeve. Two birds, one on the left and one on the right, on the edges on an infinity sign. A symbol made up of two circles.

“You didn’t say anything,” Akaashi observed smartly.

“You didn’t want a soulmate,” Tsukishima observed back. “And you still haven’t said otherwise.”

“Oh.” Akaashi didn’t say anything for a moment, rolling the other’s sleeve back down and placing his hands back where they were before. They didn’t move, just standing.

Tsukishima shrugged, moving his foot. Akaashi moved with him, stepping back into the rhythm.

“What if I were to say…you’re overthinking it?”

Tsukishima hummed, and Akaashi smirked when he realized it must have been a habit he’d picked up from Kuroo recently. “Then I would say I don’t understand what you mean.”

Akaashi wondered what other habits they’d pick up from each other. “I didn’t want a soulmate. I didn’t want someone to see a mark and…force themselves to know me? To tell themselves that they were in love, when they weren’t. And assuming I’d love them back.” He paused before he stepped on Tsukishima’s foot, going back to watching their feet. “I think I love you, and I think I was starting to love you before I even knew we were soulmates. And…not a single one of you expected anything, or asked questions, or… the _point_ is…”

“Shut up and try to stop stepping on my feet,” Tsukishima replied, though Akaashi could hear the smile in his voice. “I think I love you, too.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Akaashi.”

…

“Akaashi.”

…

“ _’Kaashi._ ”

“What do you _want?_ Go to _bed,_ Bokuto.”

“ _’Kaashi,_ ”

“Bokuto-san.”

“That’s _cold-hearted_ of you. Do you think cats dream?”

“ _Yes,_ cats have dreams, now go to bed.”

“What about other animals?”

“ _Go to bed._ ”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

            Akaashi had almost forgotten about their trip, to the point where he packed the night before. It was probably a terrible idea, but nobody had to know about it. It had been a while since he’d been to his own apartment, and though it used to seem more like home than the other place, now it seemed too empty and too quiet.

Falling asleep felt stranger, in a bed that felt too big and far too cold, with nobody to get tangled into. _Not_ that he minded too much, of course.

Regardless, it was too strange, and the morning couldn’t come fast enough. If Akaashi had known that going to get his soulmate tattoo removed to _avoid_ getting a soulmate would give him _three—_

Well, he probably wouldn’t have gone. He _wouldn’t_ have gone, actually. He would have stayed as far away as possible, he would have switched English classes, he would have done anything in his power to stay away from the other three.

But if he could go back and do it all again, he would. Because he knew how it ended now. He knew that going back to an empty apartment when he _knew_ he was going to see them again first thing tomorrow morning would mean he would somehow miss them when they weren’t there. As if he hadn’t been with them every day for…a longer time than it had felt like, now that Akaashi thought about it. How could he possibly miss people that he’d wanted nothing to do with? By wanting something to do with them.

Akaashi had met them by taking off a tattoo, and he never would have known that they were all his soulmates if he hadn’t. But some part of him wanted the tattoo back. Some part of him wanted something on his arm where everyone could see it that would say, _look at me—I’ve got three people who I love, and they all love me back, I think._

Whether he regretted getting it removed or not, Akaashi couldn’t decide.

However long it took to fall asleep, Akaashi wasn’t sure, either.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Akaashi heard them before he saw them. He could hear Tsukishima shushing the argument and had half a mind to turn tail and walk back to the too-quiet apartment. It must have been that tricky bastard Fate that made him walk up to them.

“ _Akaashi!_ Do you think—,”

“Don’t pull him into your argument, shut up before I _punch_ one of you.”

“You _wouldn’t_ ,” Kuroo decided, though he flopped back into a chair and gave up on the argument nonetheless. Glancing back at Akaashi, he smirked. “We got neighbors, apparently, and their dog is the _loudest_ thing on Earth. I’m going to cook it. Anyway, I’m just going to go with a safe bet that you got the most sleep out of all of us.”

“You were up late?” Akaashi sat next to him, pulling out his phone to check the flight time.

“Practically _all night._ So I don’t know about them, but I’m sleeping on the plane, and you can’t stop me.”

Akaashi shrugged.  “Why would I stop you? It’ll keep you quiet.” He ignored Kuroo’s exaggerated noises of hurt, clicking his phone off and standing up. “We should probably go, then, if we’re going to be on time.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Akaashi and Tsukishima agreed to split the other two up, rather than deal with their noisiness the entire flight. They all sat in the same row, Akaashi and Tsukishima in the aisle seats to keep Bokuto and Kuroo from irritating the other passengers. Kuroo, true to his word, fell asleep nearly instantly. With nothing better to do, Akaashi followed his lead.

 

When he woke up, the first thing that he noticed was that, at some point, he had come to rest his head on Kuroo’s shoulder, rather than the back of his seat. The second thing that he noticed was that he really didn’t care, and the third thing that he noticed was that he wasn’t moving any time soon. It was comfortable and warm, and he was still in the groggy just-woke-up state that made it so that he could fall back asleep right now if he wanted to. He wanted to.

Instead, a baby started crying from the front of the plane and he gave up all hope of sleep, shifting to rub at his eyes, sitting up and pulling a book out of his bag to read. Glancing over, Bokuto was asleep as well and Tsukishima was wrapped up in some movie.

He flipped open the book to the inside cover, reading over  the dedication briefly.

“Keiji,” Kuroo mumbled, plopping his head down on Akaashi’s shoulder. When Akaashi didn’t move away, it was only because he _had_ been resting his own head on Kuroo for the past few hours.

He did flush, though, ripping his gaze away from the book. “What?”

“I never even asked about that,” Kuroo’s voice was sleepy, and Akaashi wondered if he’d woken him up. Kuroo pointed towards the name scrawled on the front page of the book. “Akaashi Keiji’s an alright name.”

“And yours is any better?”

“Well, yeah, my name’s a great name.”

Akaashi hummed, turning his gaze back to his book. “Well then, Kuroo Tetsurou, either be quiet or go back to bed, because I’m trying to read.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Their hotel room was mostly white, lacking any coloration whatsoever for the most part. It was drab, but Akaashi didn’t care much about the room itself. The beds were comfortable and though he was sure it would be a challenge to all fit into _one,_ they’d probably end up trying it anyway. The fourteen hour flight meant that it was eight pm where they were now, but somewhere around noon where they lived. As much as they had slept on the plane, they were hardly tired now.

Leaving Kuroo and Tsukishima to finding someplace to eat, Akaashi stepped out onto the patio of the hotel room.

It was only a little cold outside, and he sat down in one of the plastic chairs, tucking his legs up to his chest. The door slid open again and Bokuto sat down in the other.

“Is this weird to you? Being here the way that you are?” Akaashi asked.

“Hmm, what?”

Akaashi thought for a second. “I never, in a million years, would have imaged that _this_ is where I’d be right now. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, I just… it’s not what I expected.”

“Hey Akaashi?” Bokuto replied. “This definitely isn’t what I was expecting either, but I think I like it. And I think I like you.”

The door slid open again. “There’s a place a little ways away from here,” Tsukishima mumbled. “We’re probably going to try that. What are you two talking about?”

Bokuto grinned and shrugged. “Nothing. Everything. Anything. I was hoping you’d show up with a conversation topic.”

“Oi, oi, oi, then it looks like it’s your lucky day, because there’s a _lot_ to talk about. I realize you’ve been here before, but I, personally, have never flown fourteen hours to America.” Kuroo chimed in, plopping down on the ground in front of them.

Tsukishima joined him, leaning against the other. “Mmm…we can go someplace interesting in the morning.” Akaashi glanced down at them, noting that even if Tsukishima was taller than Kuroo, he had a thinner frame than the other, who had broad shoulders and a wide frame. The mere thought of calling Tsukishima scrawny was, for some reason, amusing, and Akaashi let a tiny smile appear on his face.

He glanced down at his arms, letting his eyes trace over the soft skin. His arms were pale, unblemished and unmarked except for the little birds on the edges of the sign planted right under the crook of his elbow.

Akaashi’s eyes flicked back up, scanning over their whole view. It would be hard to fall asleep tonight, with the excitement and jetlag, but maybe they’d stay out here for a while until they decided to turn in for the night. And it wouldn’t be too hard, then. Tsukishima and Bokuto always managed to fall asleep right away, anyway. Kuroo would, probably, stay up a lot later than the rest of them, if he was going to fall asleep at all.

But, then again, maybe Akaashi would claim the spot on his left and tuck himself around the other in the way that managed to help him fall asleep sooner or later.

And maybe they’d go someplace exciting tomorrow, and maybe they’d go back home at the end of the week with the intentions of returning next summer.

Because Akaashi was pretty sure he couldn’t leave them if he tried, and he really didn’t want to try. Akaashi wasn’t certain about a whole lot of things, but he was certain of the fact that he was glad that he hadn’t moved away from Bokuto that day at the lecture hall, and he was certain of the fact that he never wanted to be the reason any of their eyes were sad.

And whatever happened from then on out, he was certain it would happen with them there, too.

Fate had dragged them together for a reason, and whatever that reason was, Akaashi was glad, for the first time, of the marks on his skin.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**Author's Note:**

> ~~


End file.
